• 


c 


' 


Matchers  of  the  trails 

a  »oofc  of  Snimal  ILife 


"  A  HUGE   BLACK   BEAR   STANDING    IN    THE    TRAIL  "     (See  page  ///) 


THE  '  WATCHERS 
OF  •  THE  •  TRAILS 

ABOOK-  OF  -ANIMAL-  LIFE  'ty 

CHAR1ES- G-D -ROBERTS 

Author  of 

"The  Kindred  of  the  Wild/9  "  The  Heart  of 
the  Ancient  Wood,"  "Barbara  Ladd,"  "The 

Forge  in  the 


With  many 
Illustrations 
by 


A.  WESSELS 
MDCCCCVI 


CHARLES 

LIVINGSTON 

BULL 


COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1904,  by 

THE  S.  S.  McCLURB  Co. 
Copyright,  1304,  by, 

PERRY  MASON  COMPANY 

Copyright,  1903,  '904,  by 

ROBERT  HOWARD  RUSSELL 
Copyright,  1903,  by 

THE  METROPOLITAN  MAGAZINE  COMPANY 

Copyright,  1903,  by 

THE  SUCCESS  COMPANY 
Copyright,  1902,  1903,  by 

THE  OUTING  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
Copyright,  1902,  by 

FRANK  LESLIE  PUBLISHING  HOUSB 


Copyright,  1904,  by 

L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 
All  rights  reserved 


Published,  June,  1904 


Colonial  \9rtss 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Slrrc'ds  &  Co. 

Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


TTO 

fellow  ot  tbe 
Erne0t  Gbompson  Seton 


20 


prefatory  mote 

iN  the  preface  to  a  former  volume1  I  have 
endeavoured  to  trace  the  development  of 
the  modern  animal  story  and  have  indi- 
cated what  appeared  to  me  to  be  its  tendency  and 
scope.  It  seems  unnecessary  to  add  anything  here 
but  a  few  words  of  more  personal  application. 

The  stories  of  which  this  volume  is  made  up 
are  avowedly  fiction.  They  are,  at  the  same  time, 
true,  in  that  the  material  of  which  they  are  moulded 
consists  of  facts,  —  facts  as  precise  as  painstaking 
observation  and  anxious  regard  for  truth  can  make 
them.  Certain  of  the  stories,  of  course,  are  true 
literally.  Literal  truth  may  be  attained  by  stories 
which  treat  of  a  single  incident,  or  of  action  so 
restricted  as  to  lie  within  the  scope  of  a  single  ob- 
servation. When,  on  the  other  hand,  a  story  follows 
the  career  of  a  wild  creature  of  the  wood  or  air  or 
water  through  wide  intervals  of  time  and  space,  it 
is  obvious  that  the  truth  of  that  story  must  be  of 


'The  Kindr-d  of  the  Wild." 
vii 


via  pretator^  IRote 

a  different  kind.  The  complete  picture  which  such 
a  story  presents  is  built  up  from  observation  neces- 
sarily detached  and  scattered ;  so  that  the  utmost  it 
can  achieve  as  a  whole  is  consistency  with  truth. 
If  a  writer  has,  by  temperament,  any  sympa- 
thetic understanding  of  the  wild  kindreds;  if  he 
has  any  intimate  knowledge  of  their  habits,  with 
any  sensitiveness  to  the  infinite  variation  of  their 
personalities;  and  if  he  has  chanced  to  live  much 
among  them  during  the  impressionable  periods  of 
his  life,  and  so  become  saturated  in  their  atmosphere 
and  their  environment ;  —  then  he  may  hope  to 
make  his  most  elaborate  piece  of  animal  biography 
not  less  true  to  nature  than  his  transcript  of  an 
isolated  fact.  The  present  writer,  having  spent 
most  of  his  boyhood  on  the  fringes  of  the  forest, 
with  few  interests  save  those  which  the  forest 
afforded,  may  claim  to  have  had  the  intimacies  of 
the  wilderness  as  it  were  thrust  upon  him.  The 
earliest  enthusiasms  which  he  can  recollect  are  con- 
nected with  some  of  the  furred  or  feathered  kin- 
dred; and  the  first  thrills  strong  enough  to  leave 
a  lasting  mark  on  his  memory  are  those  with  which 
he  used  to  follow  —  furtive,  apprehensive,  expect- 
ant, breathlessly  watchful  —  the  lure  of  an  unknown 
trail. 


prefatory  IRote  « 

There  is  one  more  point  which  may  seem  to  claim 
a  word.  A  very  distinguished  author  —  to  whom 
all  contemporary  writers  on  nature  are  indebted, 
and  from  whom  it  is  only  with  the  utmost  diffidence 
that  I  venture  to  dissent  at  all  —  has  gently  called 
me  to  account  on  the  charge  of  ascribing  to  my  ani- 
mals human  motives  and  the  mental  processes  of 
man.  The  fact  is,  however,  that  this  fault  is  one 
which  I  have  been  at  particular  pains  to  guard 
against.  The  psychological  processes  of  the  ani- 
mals are-  so  simple,  so  obvious,  in  comparison  with 
those  of  man,  their  actions  flow  so  directly  from 
their  springs  of  impulse,  that  it  is,  as  a  rule,  an 
easy  matter  to  infer  the  motives  which  are  at  any 
one  moment  impelling  them.  In  my  desire  to  avoid 
alike  the  melodramatic,  the  visionary,  and  the  sen- 
timental, I  have  studied  to  keep  well  within  the 
limits  of  safe  inference.  Where  I  may  have  seemed 
to  state  too  confidently  the  motives  underlying  the 
special  action  of  this  or  that  animal,  it  will  usually 
be  found  that  the  action  itself  is  very  fully  pre- 
sented; and  it  will,  I  think,  be  further  found  that 
the  motive  which  I  have  here  assumed  affords  the 
most  reasonable,  if  not  the  only  reasonable,  explana- 
tion of  that  action.  C.  G.  D.  R. 

NEW  YORK,  April,  1904. 


Contents  of  the  Book 


PAGE 

prefatory  mote         .....     vii 


ffreeoom  of  tbe  Blacfe=faceo  IRam  3 

faster  of  Ooloen  pool  ...  25 

ft  be  "Return  to  tbe  trails      ...  45 

Ube  Xittle  Wolf  of  tbe  pool        .      .  65 

Ube  Xittle  Wolf  of  tbe  Hir  .      .      .  73 

Ube  alien  of  tbe  Wilo    ....  83 

Ube  Silver  frost      .....  Ill 

Bs  tbe  Winter  TTi&e        ....  121 

ZTbe  IRivals  of  IRingwaaft        .      .      .131 

Ube  Decoy  .......  155 

Ube  %augb  in  tbe  Barf?  .      .      .      .  173 

ftbe  fjings  of  tbe  flnterxmle  .      .      .  185 

TTbe  -Rill      .......  197 

xi 


Watchers  of  tbe  tTraits 


jfreebom  of  tbe  Blacfc*facet>  IRam 

;N  the  top  of  Ringwaak  Hill  the  black- 
faced  ram  stood  motionless,  looking  off 
with  mild,  yellow  eyes  across  the  wooded 
level,  across  the  scattered  farmsteads  of  the  settle- 
ment, and  across  the  bright,  retreating  spirals  of 
the  distant  river,  to  that  streak  of  scarlet  light  on 
the  horizon  which  indicated  the  beginning  of  sun- 
rise. A  few  paces  below  him,  half-hidden  by  a 
gray  stump,  a  green  juniper  bush,  and  a  mossy 
brown  hillock,  lay  a  white  ewe  with  a  lamb  at  her 
side.  The  ewe's  jaws  moved  leisurely,  as  she  chewed 
her  cud  and  gazed  up  with  comfortable  confidence 
at  the  sturdy  figure  of  the  ram  silhouetted  against 
the  brightening  sky. 

This  sunrise  was  the  breaking  of  the  black-faced 
ram's  first  day  in  the  wilderness.     Never  before 


4  ^be  TKHatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

had  he  stood  on  an  open  hilltop  and  watched  the 
light  spread  magically  over  a  wide,  wild  landscape. 
Up  to  the  morning  of  the  previous  day,  his  three 
years  of  life  had  been  passed  in  protected,  green- 
hedged  valley  pastures,  amid  tilled  fields  and  well- 
stocked  barns,  beside  a  lilied  water.  This  rugged, 
lonely,  wide-visioned  world  into  which  fortune 
had  so  unexpectedly  projected  him  filled  him  with 
wonder.  Yet  he  felt  strangely  at  ease  therein. 
The  hedged  pastures  had  never  quite  suited  him; 
but  here,  at  length,  in  the  great  spaces,  he  felt  at 
home.  The  fact  was  that,  alike  in  character  and  in 
outward  appearance,  he  was  a  reversion  to  far-off 
ancestors.  He  was  the  product  of  a  freak  of 
heredity. 

In  the  fat-soiled  valley-lands,  some  fifteen  miles 
back  of  Ringwaak  Hill,  the  farmers  had  a  heavy, 
long-wooled,  hornless  strain  of  sheep,  mainly  of 
the  Leicester  breed,  which  had  been  crossed,  years 
back,  by  an  imported  Scotch  ram  of  one  of  the 
horned,  courageous,  upland,  black-faced  varieties. 
The  effect  of  this  hardy  cross  had  apparently  all 
been  bred  out,  save  for  an  added  stamina  in  the 
resulting  stock,  which  was  uniformly  white  and 
hornless.  When,  therefore,  a  lamb  was  born  with 
a  black  face  and  blackish-gray  legs,  it  was  cherished 


Ube  ffreeoom  of  tbe  JBlacft*face&  1Ram   5 

as  a  curiosity;  and  when,  in  time,  it  developed  a 
splendid  pair  of  horns,  it  became  the  handsomest 
ram  in  all  the  valley,  and  a  source  of  great  pride 
to  its  owner.  But  when  black-faced  lambs  began 
to  grow  common  in  the  hornless  and  immaculate 
flocks,  the  feelings  of  the  valley  folks  changed,  and 
word  went  around  that  the  strain  of  the  white-faced 
must  be  kept  pure.  Then  it  was  decreed  that  the 
great  horned  ram  should  no  longer  sire  the  flocks, 
but  be  hurried  to  the  doom  of  his  kind  and  go  to 
the  shambles. 

Just  at  this  time,  however,  a  young  farmer  from 
the  backwoods  settlement  over  behind  Ringwaak 
chanced  to  visit  the  valley.  The  sheep  of  his  set- 
tlement were  not  only  hornless,  but  small  and  light- 
wooled  as  well,  and  the  splendid,  horned  ram  took 
his  fancy.  Here  was  a  chance  to  improve  his  breed. 
He  bought  the  ram  for  what  he  was  worth  to  the 
butcher,  and  proudly  led  him  away,  over  the  hills 
and  through  the  great  woods,  toward  the  settlement 
on  the  other  side  of  Ringwaak. 

The  backwoodsman  knew  right  well  that  a  flock 
of  sheep  may  be  driven,  but  that  a  single  sheep 
must  be  led ;  so  he  held  his  new  possession  securely 
by  a  piece  of  stout  rope  about  ten  feet  long.  For 
an  hour  or  two  the  ram  followed  with  an  exemplary 


6  Ube  TKHatcbets  of  tbe  Urails 

docility  quite  foreign  to  his  independent  spirit. 
He  was  subdued  by  the  novelty  of  his  surround- 
ings, —  the  hillocky,  sloping  pastures,  and  the  shad- 
owy solemnity  of  the  forest.  Moreover,  he  per- 
ceived, in  his  dim  way,  a  kind  of  mastery  in  this 
heavy -booted,  homespun -clad,  tobacco -chew  ing, 
grave-eyed  man  from  the  backwoods,  and  for  a 
long  time  he  felt  none  of  his  usual  pugnacity.  But 
by  and  by  the  craving  for  freedom  began  to  stir  in 
his  breast,  and  the  blood  of  his  hill-roving  ances- 
tors thrilled  toward  the  wild  pastures.  The  glances 
which,  from  time  to  time,  he  cast  upon  the  back- 
woodsman at  the  other  end  of  the  rope  became 
wary,  calculating,  and  hostile.  This  stalwart  form, 
striding  before  him,  was  the  one  barrier  between 
himself  and  freedom.  Freedom  was  a  thing  of 
which  he  knew,  indeed,  nothing,  —  a  thing  which, 
to  most  of  his  kind,  would  have  seemed  terrifying 
rather  than  alluring.  But  to  him,  with  that  in- 
herited wildness  stirring  in  his  blood,  it  seemed  the 
thing  to  be  craved  before  all  else. 

Presently  they  came  to  a  little  cold  spring,  bub- 
bling up  beside  the  road  and  tinkling  over  the  steep 
bank.  The  road  at  this  point  ran  along  a  hillside, 
and  the  slope  below  the  road  was  clothed  with  blue- 
berry and  other  dense  shrubs.  The  backwoodsman 


ffreefcom  of  tbe  Blacfe^faceD  1Ram    7 

was  hot  and  thirsty.  Flinging  aside  his  battered 
hat,  he  dropped  down  on  his  hands  and  knees  be- 
side the  spring  and  touched  his  lips  to  the  water. 

In  this  position,  still  holding  the  rope  in  a  firm 
grasp,  he  had  his  back  to  the  ram.  Moreover,  he 
no  longer  looked  either  formidable  or  commanding. 
The  ram  saw  his  chance.  A  curious  change  came 
over  his  mild,  yellow  eyes.  They  remained  yellow, 
indeed,  but  became  cold,  sinister,  and  almost  cruel 
in  their  expression. 

The  backwoodsman,  as  he  drank,  held  a  tight 
grip  on  the  rope.  The  ram  settled  back  slightly, 
till  the  rope  was  almost  taut.  Then  he  launched 
himself  forward.  His  movement  was  straight  and 
swift,  as  if  he  had  been  propelled  by  a  gigantic 
spring.  His  massive,  broad-horned  forehead  struck 
the  stooping  man  with  terrific  force. 

With  a  grunt  of  pain  and  amazement,  the  man 
shot  sprawling  over  the  bank,  and  landed,  half- 
stunned,  in  a  clump  of  blueberry  bushes.  Dazed 
and  furious,  he  picked  himself  up,  passed  a  heavy 
hand  across  his  scratched,  smarting  face,  and  turned 
to  see  the  ram  disappearing  among  the  thickets 
above  the  road.  His  disappointment  so  overcame 
his  wrath  that  he  forgot  to  exercise  his  vigorous 
backwoods  vocabulary,  and  resumed  his  homeward 


8  Ube  THUatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

way  with  his  head  full  of  plans  for  the  recapture 
of  his  prize. 

The  ram,  meanwhile,  trailing  the  length  of  rope 
behind  him,  was  galloping  madly  through  the 
woods.  He  was  intoxicated  with  his  freedom. 
These  rough,  wild,  lonely  places  seemed  to  him 
his  home.  With  all  his  love  for  the  wilderness, 
the  instinct  which  had  led  him  to  it  was  altogether 
faulty  and  incomplete.  It  supplied  him  with  none 
of  the  needful  forest  lore.  He  had  no  idea  of  cau- 
tion. He  had  no  inkling  of  fear.  He  had  no 
conception  of  the  enemies  that  might  lurk  in  thicket 
or  hollow.  He  went  crashing  ahead  as  if  the  green 
world  belonged  to  him,  and  cared  not  who  might 
hear  the  brave  sound  of  his  going.  Now  and  then 
he  stepped  on  the  rope,  and  stumbled;  but  that 
was  a  small  matter. 

Through  dark  strips  of  forest,  over  rocky,  tan- 
gled spaces,  across  slopes  of  burnt  barren,  his  prog- 
ress was  always  upward,  until,  having  traversed 
several  swampy  vales  and  shadowy  ravines,  toward 
evening  he  came  out  upon  the  empty  summit  of 
Ringwaak.  On  the  topmost  'hillock  he  took  his 
stand  proudly,  his  massive  head  and  broad,  curled 
horns  in  splendid  relief  against  the  amber  sky. 

As  he  stood,  surveying  his  new  realm,  a  low 


yreeoom  ot  tbe  3Blacfe*facet>  1Ram    9 

bleat  came  to  him  from  a  sheltered  hollow  close 
by,  and,  looking  down,  he  saw  a  small  white  ewe 
with  a  new-born  lamb  nursing  under  her  flank. 
Here  was  his  new  realm  peopled  at  once.  Here 
were  followers  of  his  own  kind.  He  stepped  briskly 
down  from  his  hillock  and  graciously  accepted  the 
homage  of  the  ewe,  who  snuggled  up  against  him 
as  if  afraid  at  the  loneliness  and  the  coming  on 
of  night.  All  night  he  slept  beside  the  mother  and 
her  young,  in  the  sheltered  hollow,  and  kept  no 
watch  because  he  feared  no  foe.  But  the  ewe  kept 
watch,  knowing  well  what  perils  might  steal  upon 
them  in  the  dark. 

As  it  chanced,  however,  no  midnight  prowler 
visited  the  summit  of  Ringwaak  Hill,  and  the  first 
of  dawn  found  the  great  ram  again  at  his  post  of 
observation.  It  is  possible  that  he  had  another 
motive  besides  his  interest  in  his  new,  wonderful 
world.  He  may  have  expected  the  woodsman  to 
follow  and  attempt  his  recapture,  and  resolved  not 
to  be  taken  unawares.  Whatever  his  motive,  he 
kept  his  post  till  the  sun  was  high  above  the  hori- 
zon, and  the  dew-wet  woods  gleamed  as  if  sown 
with  jewels.  Then  he  came  down  and  began  to 
feed  with  the  ewe,  cropping  the  short,  tfcn  grass 


io          tlbe  Tldatcbera  of  tbe  trails 

with  quick  bites  and  finding  it  far  more  sweet  than 
the  heavy  growths  of  his  old  pasture. 

Late  in  the  morning,  when  pasturing  was  over 
for  the  time,  the  ram  and  the  little  ewe  lay  down 
in  the  shade  of  a  steep  rock,  comfortably  chewing 
their  cud,  while  the  lamb  slept  at  its  mother's  side. 
The  ram,  deeply  contented,  did  not  observe  two 
gray-brown,  stealthy  forms  creeping  along  the  slope, 
from  bush  to  rock,  and  from  stump  to  hillock. 
But  the  ewe,  ever  on  the  watch,  presently  caught 
sight  of  them,  and  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  snort 
of  terror.  She  knew  well  enough  what  a  lynx  was. 
Yet  for  all  her  terror  she  had  no  thought  of  flight. 
Her  lamb  was  too  young  to  flee,  and  she  would 
stay  by  it  in  face  of  any  fate. 

The  ram  got  up  more  slowly,  turned  his  head, 
and  eyed  the  stealthy  strangers  with  grave  curiosity. 
Curiosity,  however,  changed  into  hostility  as  he 
saw  by  the  ewe's  perturbation  that  the  strangers 
were  foes ;  and  a  sinister  glitter  came  into  the  great 
gold  eyes  which  shone  so  brilliantly  from  his  black 
face. 

Seeing  themselves  discovered,  the  two  lynxes 
threw  aside  their  cunning  and  rushed  ravenously 
upon  what  they  counted  easy  prey.  They  knew 
something  of  the  timorous  hearts  of  sheep,  and 


11  THROUGH    DARK    STRIPS   OF   FOREST." 


ZTbe  jfreefcom  of  tbe  Blacfe*facefc  IRam  n 

had  little  expectation  of  resistance.  But  being, 
first  of  all,  hungry  rather  than  angry,  they  pre- 
ferred what  seemed  easiest  to  get.  It  was  upon 
the  lamb  and  the  ewe  that  they  sprang,  ignoring 
the  ram  contemptuously. 

One  thing  which  they  had  not  reckoned  with, 
however,  was  the  temper  of  the  ewe.  Before  one 
fierce  claw  could  reach  her  lamb,  she  had  butted 
the  assailant  so  fiercely  in  the  flank  that  he  forgot 
his  purpose  and  turned  with  a  snarl  of  rage  to 
rend  her.  Meanwhile  the  other  lynx,  springing  for 
her  neck,  had  experienced  the  unexpected.  He  had 
been  met  by  the  lightning  charge  of  the  ram,  fair 
in  the  ribs,  and  hurled  sprawling  into  a  brittle, 
pointed  tangle  of  dead  limbs  sticking  up  from  the 
trunK  of  a  fallen  tree. 

Having  delivered  this  most  effective  blow,  the 
ram  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two,  mincing  on  his 
slender  feet,  and  prepared  to  repeat  it.  The  lynx 
was  struggling  frantically  among  the  branches, 
which  stuck  into  him  and  tore  his  fine  fur.  Just 
in  time  to  escape  the  second  assault  he  got  free,  — 
but  free  not  for  fight  but  for  flight.  One  tre- 
mendous, wildly  contorted  leap  landed  him  on  the 
other  side  of  the  dead  tree ;  and,  thoroughly  cowed, 
he  scurried  away  down  the  hillside. 


12         Ube  matcbers  of  tbe  trails 

The  ram  at  once  turned  his  attention  to  the  ewe 
and  her  antagonist.  But  the  second  lynx,  who 
had  not  found  his  task  so  simple  as  he  had  ex- 
pected it  to  be,  had  no  stomach  left  for  one  more 
difficult.  The  ewe  was  bleeding  about  the  head, 
and  would,  of  course,  if  she  had  been  left  to  fight 
it  out,  have  been  worsted  in  a  very  short  time. 
But  the  enemy  had  felt  the  weight  of  her  blows 
upon  his  ribs,  and  had  learned  his  lesson.  For 
just  a  fraction  of  a  second  he  turned,  and  defied 
the  ram  with  a  screeching  snarl.  But  when  that 
horned,  black,  battering  head  pitched  forward  at 
him  he  bounded  aside  like  a  furry  gray  ball  and 
clambered  to  the  top  of  the  rock.  Here  he  crouched 
for  some  moments,  snarling  viciously,  his  tufted 
ears  set  back  against  his  neck,  and  his  stump  of  a 
tail  twitching  with  rage,  while  the  ram  minced  to 
and  fro  beneath  him,  stamping  defiance  with  his 
dainty  hoofs.  All  at  once  the  big  cat  doubled  upon 
itself,  slipped  down  the  other  side  of  the  rock,  and 
went  gliding  away  through  the  stumps  and  hillocks 
like  a  gray  shadow ;  and  the  ram,  perhaps  to  conceal 
his  elation,  fell  to  grazing  as  if  nothing  out  of  the 
ordinary  had  happened.  The  ewe,  on  the  other 
hand,  seeing  the  danger  so  well  past,  took  no 


jfreefcom  ot  tbe  Blach-face&  IRam   13 

thought  of  her  torn  face,  but  set  herself  to  comfort 
and  reassure  the  trembling  lamb. 

After  this,  through  the  slow,  bright  hours  while 
the  sun  swung  hotly  over  Ringwaak,  the  ram  and 
his  little  family  were  undisturbed.  An  eagle,  wheel- 
ing, wheeling,  wheeling  in  the  depths  of  the  blue, 
looked  down  and  noted  the  lamb.  But  he  had  no 
thought  of  attacking  so  well  guarded  a  prey.  The 
eagle  had  a  wider  outlook  than  others  of  the  wild 
kindred,  and  he  knew  from  of  old  many  matters 
which  the  lynxes  of  Ringwaak  had  never  learned 
till  that  day. 

There  were  other  visitors  that  came  and  glanced 
at  the  little  family  during  the  quiet  content  of  their 
cud-chewing.  A  weasel  ran  restlessly  over  a  hillock 
and  peered  down  upon  them  with  hard,  bright  eyes. 
The  big  ram,  with  his  black  face  and  huge,  curling 
horns,  was  a  novel  phenomenon,  and  the  weasel 
disappeared  behind  the  hillock,  only  to  appear  again 
much  nearer,  around  a  clump  of  weeds.  His  curi- 
osity was  mingled  with  malicious  contempt,  till  the 
ram  chanced'  to  rise  and  shake  his  head.  Then  the 
weasel  saw  the  rope  that  wriggled  from  the  ram's 
neck.  Was  it  some  new  and  terrible  kind  of  snake? 
The  weasel  respected  snakes  when  they  were  large 


14         Ube  TKHatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

and  active;  so  he  forgot  his  curiosity  and  slipped 
away  from  the  dangerous  neighbourhood. 

The  alarm  of  the  weasel,  however,  was  nothing 
to  that  of  the  wood-mice.  While  the  ram  was  lying 
-down  they  came  out  of  their  secret  holes  and  played 
about  securely,  seeming  to  realize  that  the  big  ani- 
mal's presence  was  a  safeguard  to  them.  But  when 
he  moved,  and  they  saw  the  rope  trail  sinuously 
behind  him.  through  the  scanty  grass,  they  were 
almost  paralyzed  with  panic.  Such  a  snake  as  that 
would  require  all  the  wood-mice  on  Ringwaak  to 
assuage  his  appetite.  They  fairly  fell  backward 
into  their  burrows,  where  they  crouched  quivering 
in  the  darkest  recesses,  not  daring  to  show  their 
noses  again  for  hours. 

Neither  weasel  nor  wood-mice,  nor  the  chickadees 
which  came  to  eye  him  saucily,  seemed  to  the  big 
ram  worth  a  moment's  attention.  But  when  a 
porcupine,  his  quills  rattling  and  bristling  till  he 
looked  as  big  around  as  a  half-bushel  basket,  strolled 
aimlessly  by,  the  ram  was  interested  and  rose  to 
his  feet.  The  little,  deep-set  eyes  of  the  porcupine 
mssed  over  him  with  supremest  indifference,  and 
their  owner  began  to  gnaw  at  the  bark  of  a  hemlock 
sapling  which  grew  at  one  side  of  the  rock.  To 
this  gnawing  he  devoted  his  whole  attention,  with 


jfreefcom  of  tbe  J3lacfo*face&  1Ram  15 

an  eagerness  that  would  have  led  one  to  think  he 
was  hungry,  —  as,  indeed,  he  was,  not  having  had 
a  full  meal  for  nearly  half  an  hour.  The  porcupine, 
of  all  nature's  children,  is  the  best  provided  for, 
having  the  food  he  loves  lying  about  him  at  all 
seasons.  Yet  he  is  for  ever  eating,  as  if  famine 
were  in  ambush  for  him  just  over  the  next. hillock. 
Seeing  the  high  indifference  of  this  small,  bris- 
tling stranger,  the  ram  stepped  up  and  was  just 
about  to  sniff  at  him  inquiringly.  Had  he  done 
so,  the  result  would  have  been  disastrous.  He 
would  have  got  a  slap  in  the  face  from  the  porcu- 
pine's active  and  armed  tail ;  and  his  face  would 
have  straightway  been  transformed  into  a  sort  of 
anguished  pincushion,  stuck  full  of  piercing,  finely 
barbed  quills.  He  would  have  paid  dear  for  his 
ignorance  of  woodcraft,  —  perhaps  with  the  loss 
of  an  eye,  or  even  with  starvation  from  a  quill 
working  through  into  his  gullet.  But  fortunately 
for  him  the  ewe  understood  the  peculiarities  of 
porcupines.  Just  in  time  she  noted  his  danger,  and 
rudely  butted  him  aside.  He  turned  upon  her  in 
a  fume  of  amazed  indignation;  but  in  some  way 
she  made  him  understand  that  the  porcupine  was 
above  all  law,  and  not  to  be  trifled  with  even  by 
the  lords  of  the  wilderness.  Very  sulkily  he  lay 


16         trbe  IKHatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

down  again,  and  the  porcupine  went  on  chiselling 
hemlock'  bark,  serenely  unconscious  of  the  anger 
in  the  inscrutable  yellow  eyes  that  watched  him 
from  the  ram's  black  face. 

When  the  shadows  grew  long  and  luminous, 
toward  evening,  the  ram,  following  some  unex- 
plained instinct,  again  mounted  the  topmost  point 
of  Ringwaak,  and  stood  like  a  statue  gazing  over 
the  vast,  warm-coloured  solitude  of  his  new  domain. 
His  yellow  eyes  were  placid  with  a  great  content. 
A  little  below  him,  the  white  lamb  wobbling  on 
weak  legs  at  her  side,  the  ewe  pastured  confidently, 
secure  in  the  proved  prowess  of  her  protector.  As 
the  sun  dropped  below  the  far-off  western  rim  of 
the  forest,  it  seemed  as  if  one  wide  wave  of  lucent 
rose-violet  on  a  sudden  flooded  the  world.  Every- 
thing on  Ringwaak  —  the  ram's  white  fleece,  the 
gray,  bleached  stumps,  the  brown  hillocks,  the  green 
hollows  and  juniper  clumps  and  poplar  saplings  — 
took  on  a  palpitating  aerial  stain.  Here  and  there 
in  the.  distance  the. coils  of  the  river  gleamed  clear 
gold;  and  overhead,  in  the  hollow  amber-and-lilac 
arch  of  sky,  the  high-wandering  night-hawks 
swooped  with  the  sweet  twang  of  smitten  strings. 

Down  at  the  foot  of  the  northern  slope  of  Ring- 
waak lay  a  dense  cedar  swamp.  Presently,  out 


Ube  jfreeoom  of  tbe  Blacfc^faceo  1Ram  17 

from  the  green  fringe  of  the  cedars,  a  bear  thrust 
his  head  and  cast  a  crafty  glance  about  the  open. 
Seeing  the  ram  on  the  hilltop  and  the  ewe  with 
her  lamb  feeding  near  by,  he  sank  back  noiselessly 
into  the  cover  of  the  cedars,  and  stole  around 
toward  the  darkening  eastern  slope,  where  a  suc- 
cession of  shrubby  copses  ran  nearly  to  the  top 
of  the  hill. 

The  bear  was  rank,  rusty-coated,  old,  and  hungry ; 
and  he  loved  sheep.  He  was  an  adept  in  stalking 
this  sweet-fleshed,  timorous  quarry,  and  breaking 
its  neck  with  a  well-directed  blow  as  it  dashed  past 
him  in  a  panic.  Emerging  from  the  swamp,  he 
crept  up  the  hill,  taking  cunning  advantage  of  every 
bush,  stump,  and  boulder.  For  all  his  awkward 
looking  bulk,  he  moved  as  lightly  as  a  cat,  making 
himself  small,  and  twisting  and  flattening  and  effa- 
cing himself;  and  never  a  twig  was  allowed  to  snap, 
or  a  stone  to  clatter,  under  his  broad,  unerring  feet. 

About  this  time  it  chanced  that  the  backwoods- 
man, who  had  been  out  nearly  all  day  hunting  for 
his  lost  prize,  approached  the  edge  of  the  forest 
at  the  other  side  of  Ringwaak,  —  and  saw  the  figure 
of  the  ram  against  the  sky.  Then,  seeing  also  the 
ewe  with  the  lamb  beside  her,  he  knew  that  the 
game  was  his. 


i8          Ube  TlClatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

Below  the  top  of  the  hill  there  was  not  a  scrap 
of  cover  for  a  distance  of  perhaps  twenty  paces. 
The  bear  crept  to  the  very  last  bush,  the  rrm  1  eing 
occupied  with  the  world  at  a  distance,  and  the  ewe 
busy  at  her  pasturing.  Behind  the  bush  —  a  thick, 
spreading  juniper  —  the  bear  crouched  motionless 
for  some  seconds,  his  little  red  eyes  aglow,  and  his 
jaws  beginning  to  slaver  with  eagerness.  Then 
selecting  the  unconscious  ewe,  because  he  knew  she 
was  not  likely  to  desert  the  lamb,  he  rushed  upon 
his  intended  victim. 

The  ewe,  as  it  chanced,  was  about  thirty-five  or 
forty  feet  distant  from  the  enemy,  as  he  lunged 
out,  black  and  appalling,  from  behind  the  juniper. 
At  the  same  time  the  ram  was  not  more  than  twenty 
or  twenty-five  feet  distant,  straight  above  the  lamb, 
in  a  direction  at  right  angles  to  the  pith  of  the 
bear.  The  ewe  looked  up  with  a  startled  bleat, 
wheeled,  sprang  nimbly  before  the  lamb,  and  faced 
her  doom  dauntlessly,  with  lowered  head. 

The  ram's  mild  gaze  changed  in  a  flash  to  one 
of  cold,  yellow  savagery  at  the  sight  of  the  great 
black  beast  invading  his  kingdom.  Down  went 
his  conquering  head.  For  just  a  fraction  of  a  sec- 
rnd  his  sturdy  body  sagged  back,  as  if  he  were 
about  to  sit  down.  This,  so  to  speak,  was  the  bend- 


"HE   CREPT    UP    THE    HILL." 


Ube  freedom  of  tbe  Blacfc*faceo  Kant  19 

ing  of  the  bow.  Then  he  launched  himself  straight 
down  the  slope,  all  his  strength,  his  weight,  and 
the  force  of  gravity  combining  to  drive  home  that 
mighty  stroke. 

The  bear  had  never,  in  all  his  experience  with 
sheep,  encountered  one  whose  resistance  was  worth 
taking  into  account.  The  defiance  of  the  ewe  was 
less  than  nothing  to  him.  But  as  he  saw,  from  the 
corner  of  his  eye,  the  huge  bulk  plunging  down 
upon  him,  he  hesitated,  and  half  turned,  with 
great  paw  upraised  for  a  finishing  blow. 

He  turned  not  c|uite  in  time,  however,  and  his 
defence  was  not  quite  strenuous-  enough  for  the 
emergency.  He  struck  like  lightning,  as  a  bear 
always  can,  but  just  before  the  stroke  could  find 
its  mark  the  ram's  armed  forehead  crashed  into  his 
ribs.  The  blow,  catching  him  as  it  did,  was  irresisti- 
ble. His  claws  tore  off  a  patch  of  wool  and  skin, 
and  ploughed  red  furrows  across  the  ram's  shoulder, 
—  but  the  next  instant  he  was  sprawling,  his  breath 
jarred  from  his  lungs,  against  a  stump  some  ten 
feet  down  the  slope. 

As  the  bear  struggled  to  his  feet,  furious  but 
half-daunted  with  amazement,  the  ram  danced 
backward  a  pace  or  two  on  his  nimble  feet,  as  if 
showing  off,  and  then  delivered  his  second  charge. 


20         tEbe  TKBatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

The  bewildered  bear  was  again  caught  unready, 
irresolute  as  to  whether  he  should  fight  or  flee ;  and 
again  he  was  knocked  headlong,  a  yard  or  two 
further  down  the  slope.  His  was  not  the  dauntless 
spirit  that  most  of  his  kindred  would  have  shown 
in  such  a  case,  and  he  would  willingly  have  made 
his  escape  at  once  if  he  had  seen  his  way  quite 
clear  to  do  so.  But  at  this  moment,  while  he  hesi- 
tated, he  heard  a  man's  voice  shouting  loudly,  and 
saw  the  tall  backwoodsman  running  toward  him 
up  the  hill.  This  sight  turned  his  alarm  into  a 
blind  panic.  His  feet  seemed  to  acquire  wings  as 
he  tore  madly  away  among  the  thickets.  When  he 
was  hidden  by  the  leafage,  his  path  could  still  be 
followed  by  the  crashing  of  dry  branches  and  the 
clattering  of  loosened  stones. 

The  woodsman  had  seen  the  whole  incident,  and 
was  wild  with  enthusiasm  over  the  prowess  of  his 
prize.  Bears  had  been  the  most  dreaded  scourge 
of  the  settlement  sheep-farmers,  but  now,  as  he 
proudly  said  to  himself,  he  had  a  ram  that  could 
"  lick  a  b'ar  silly !  "  He  bore  no  grudge  on  account 
of  his  discomfiture  that  morning  beside  the  spring, 
but  rather  thought  of  it  with  appreciation  as  a  fur- 
ther evidence  of  his  favourite's  cunning  and  prow- 
ess ;  and  he  foresaw,  with  a  chuckle,  that  there  were 


Ube  jfreefcom  of  tbe  3Blacft-face^  1Ram  « 

painful  surprises  in  store  for  the  bears  of  the  Ring- 
waak  range.  He  had  made  a  wise  purchase  indeed 
when  he  saved  that  splendid  beast  from  the  butcher. 

Hearing  the  man's  voice,  the  ram  had  halted  in 
dismay  just  when  he  was  about  to  charge  the  bear 
a  third  time.  He  had  no  mind  to  go  again  into 
captivity.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  for  all  his  lord- 
liness of  spirit,  he  felt  that  the  man  was,  his  master. 
At  first  he  lowered  his  head  threateningly,  as  if 
about  to  attack;  but  when  the  backwoodsman 
shouted  at  him  there  was  an  authority  in  those 
tones  which  he  could  not  withstand,  and  he  sullenly 
drew  aside.  With  a  good-natured  laugh,  the  man 
picked  the  lamb  up  in  his  arms,  whereupon  the 
mother  stepped  timidly  to  his  side,  evidently  hav- 
ing no  fear.  The  man  rubbed  her  nose  kindly, 
and  stroked  her  ears,  and  gave  her  something  from 
his  pocket  which  she  ate  greedily;  and,  as  the  ram 
looked  on,  the  anger  gradually  faded  out  from  his 
yellow  eyes.  At  length  the  man  turned  and  walked 
slowly  down  the  hill,  carrying  the  lamb.  The  ewe 
followed,  crowding  as  close  to  him  as  she  could, 
and  stumbling  as  she  went  because  her  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  her  little  one. 

The  ram  hesitated.  He  looked  at  the  hillside, 
the  woods,  and  the  sky  beginning  to  grow  chill  with 


THHatcbers  of  tbe  Urafte 

the  onrush  of  twilight.  Then  he  looked  at  the  re- 
treating figures.  Suddenly  he  saw  his  world  grow- 
ing empty  and  desolate.  With  an  anxious  bleat 
he  trotted  after  the  ewe,  and  took  his  docile  place 
a  few  feet  behind  the  man's  heels.  The  man  glanced 
over  his  shoulders,  and  a  smile  of  pleasure  softened 
his  rugged  face.  In  a  few  moments  the  little  pro- 
cession disappeared  in  the  woods,  moving  toward 
the  settlement,  and  Ringwaak  Hill  was  left  solitary 
in  the  dusk,  with  the  lonely  notes  of  the  night-hawks 
twanging  over  it. 


n&aster  of  (Bolfcen  pool 


fIDaster  of  (Soften  pool 

|NE  shore  of  the  pool  was  a  spacious  sweep- 
ing curve  of  the  sward,  dotted  with  clumps 
of  blue  flag-flowers.  From  the  green 
fringes  of  this  shore  the  bottom  sloped  away  softly 
over  a  sand  so  deep  and  glowing  in  its  hue  of  orange- 
yellow  as  to  give  the  pool  the  rich  name  by  which 
it  was  known  for  miles  up  and  down  the  hurrying 
Clearwater.  The  other  shore  was  a  high,  over- 
hanging bank,  from  whose  top  drooped  a  varied 
leafage  of  birch,  ash,  poplar,  and  hemlock.  Under 
this  bank  the  water  was  deep  and  dark,  a  translucent 
black  with  trembling  streaks  and  glints  of  amber. 
Fifty  yards  up-stream  a  low  fall  roared  musically; 
but  before  reaching  the  fresh  tranquillity  of  the 
pool,  the  current  bore  no  signs  of  its  disturbance 
save  a  few  softly  whirling  foam  clusters.  Light 
airs,  perfumed  with  birch  and  balsam  and  warm 
scents  of  the  sun-steeped  sward,  drew  over  the 
pool  from  time  to  time,  wrinkling  and  clouding 
its  glassy  surface.  Birds  flew  over  it,  catching  the 


26         Ube  TKHatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

small  flies  to  whom  its  sheen  was  a  ceaseless  lure. 
And  huge  dragon-flies,  with  long,  iridescent  bodies 
and  great  jewelled,  sinister  eyes,  danced  and  darted 
above  it. 

The  cool  black  depths  under  the  bank  retained 
their  coolness  through  the  fiercest  heats  of  summer, 
because  just  here  the  brook  was  joined  by  the 
waters  of  an  icy  spring  stealing  down  through  a 
crevice  of  the  rocks ;  and  here  in  the  deepest  recess, 
exacting  toll  of  all  the  varied  life  that  passed  his 
domain,  the  master  of  Golden  Pool  made  his  home. 

For  several  years  the  great  trout  had  held  his 
post  in  the  pool,  defying  every  lure  of  the  crafty 
fisherman.  The  Clearwater  was  a  protected  stream, 
being  leased  to  a  rich  fishing  club;  and  the  master 
of  the  pool  was  therefore  secure  against  the  treach- 
erous assaults  of  net  or  dynamite.  Many  times  each 
season  fishermen  would  come  and  pit  their  skill 
against  his  cunning;  but  never  a  fly  could  tempt 
him,  never  a  silvery,  trolled  minnow  or  whirling 
spoon  deceive  him  to  the  fatal  rush.  At  some  new 
lure  he  would  rise  lazily  once  in  awhile,  revealing 
his  bulk  to  the  ambitious  angler,  —  but  never  to  take 
hold.  Contemptuously  he  would  flout  the  cheat 
with  his  broad  flukes,  and  go  down  again  with  a 
grand  swirl  to  his  lair  under  the  rock. 


Ube  /Caster  of  (Boloen  pool          27 

It  was  only  to  the  outside  world  —  to  the  dragon- 
fly, and  the  bird,  and  the  chattering  red  squirrel 
in  the  overhanging  hemlock  —  that  the  deep  water 
under  the  bank  looked  black.  To  the  trout  in  his 
lair,  looking  upward  toward  the  sunlight,  the  whole 
pool  had  a  golden  glow.  His  favourite  position 
was  a  narrow  place  between  two  stones,  where  he 
lay  with  head  up-stream  and  belly  about  two  inches 
from  the  sandy  bottom,  gently  fanning  the  water 
with  his  party-coloured  fins,  and  opening  and  clos- 
ing his  rosy  gill-fringes  as  he  breathed.  In  length 
he  was  something  over  twenty  inches,  with  a  thick, 
deep  body  tapering  finely  to  the  powerful  tail.  Like 
all  the  trout  of  the  Clearwater,  he  was  silver-bellied 
with  a  light  pink  flush,  the  yellow  and  brown  mark- 
ings on  his  sides  light  in  tone,  and  his  spots  of  the 
most  high,  intense  vermilion.  His  great  lower  jaw 
was  thrust  forward  in  a  way  that  gave  a  kind  of 
bulldog  ferocity  to  his  expression. 

The  sky  of  the  big  trout's  world  was  the  flat 
surface  of  Golden  Pool.  From  the  unknown  place 
beyond  that  sky  there  came  to  his  eyes  but  moving 
shadows,  arrangements  of  light  and  dark.  He  could 
not  see  out  and  through  into  the  air  unobstructedly, 
as  one  looks  forth  from  a  window  into  the  world. 
Most  of  these  moving  shadows  he  understood  very 


28         Ube  TKttatcbers  of  tbe  TTraUs 

well.  When  broad  and  vague,  they  did  not,  as  a 
rule,  greatly  interest  him;  but  when  they  got  small, 
and  sharply  black,  he  knew  they  might  at  any  instant 
break  through  with  a  splash  and  become  real,  col- 
oured things,  probably  good  to  eat.  A  certain  slim 
little  shadow  was  always  of  interest  to  him  unless 
he  was  feeling  gorged.  Experience  had  taught  him 
that  when  it  actually  touched  the  shining  surface 
above,  and  lay  there  sprawling  helplessly  with  wet 
wings,  it  would  prove  to  be  a  May  fly,  which  he 
liked.  Having  no  rivals  to  get  ahead  of  him,  there 
was  no  need  of  haste.  He  would  sail  up  with  dig- 
nity, open  his  great  jaws,  and  take  in  the  tiny 
morsel. 

Sometimes  the  moving  shadows  were  large  and 
of  a  slower  motion,  and  these,  if  they  chanced  to 
break  through,  would  prove  to  be  bright-coloured 
moths  or  butterflies,  or  glittering  beetles,  or  fat 
black  and  yellow  bumblebees,  or  lean  black  and 
yellow  wasps.  If  he  was  hungry,  all  these  things 
were  good  for  food,  and  his  bony,  many-toothed 
mouth  cared  nothing  for  stings.  Sometimes  when 
he  was  not  at  all  hungry,  but  merely  playful,  he 
would  rise  with  a  rush  at  anything  breaking  the 
sheen  of  his  roof,  slap  it  with  his  tail,  then  seize 
it  between  his  hard  lips  and  carry  it  down  with  him, 


Ube  toaster  of  (Boloen  pool          29 

only  to  drop  it  a  moment  later  as  a  child  might 
drop  a  toy.  Once  in  awhile,  either  in  hunger  or  in 
sport,  he  would  rise  swiftly  at  the  claws  or  wing- 
tips  of  a  dipping  swallow ;  but  he  never  managed 
to  catch  the  nimble  bird.  Had  he,  by  any  chance, 
succeeded,  he  would  probably  have  found  the  feath- 
ers no  obstacle  to  his  enjoyment  of  the  novel  fare. 

At  times  it  was  not  a  shadow,  but  a  splash,  that 
would  attract  his  attention  to  the  shining  roof  of 
his  world.  A  grasshopper  would  fall  in,  and  kick 
grotesquely  till  he  rose  to  end  its  troubles.  Or  a 
misguided  frog,  pursued  perhaps  by  some  enemy 
on  land,  would  dive  in  and  swim  by  with  long, 
webbed  toes.  At  this  sight  the  master  of  the  pool 
would  dart  from  his  lair  like  a  bolt  from  a  catapult. 
Frogs  were  much  to  his  taste.  And  once  in  a  long 
time  even  a  wood-mouse,  hard  pressed  and  panic- 
stricken,  would  leap  in  to  swim  across  to  the 
meadow  shore.  The  first  time  this  occurred  the 
trout  had  risen  slowly,  and  followed  below  the 
swimmer  till  assured  that  there  was  no  peril  con- 
cealed in  the  tempting  phenomenon.  After  that, 
however,  he  always  went  at  such  prey  with  a  fero- 
cious rush,  hurling  himself  half  out  of  water  in 
his  eagerness. 

But  it  was  not  only  to  his  translucent  sky  that 


30         Ube  "Qdatcbers  of  tbe  TTrails 

the  master  of  the  pool  looked  for  his  meat.  A  large 
part  of  it  came  down  upon  the  current  of  the  brook. 
Bugs,  grubs,  and  worms,  of  land  and  water,  some 
dead,  others  disabled  or  bewildered  by  their  passage 
through  the  falls,  contributed  to  his  feasting. 
Above  all,  there  were  the  smaller  fish  who  were 
so  reckless  or  uninformed  as  to  try  to  pass  through 
Golden  Pool.  They  might  be  chub,  or  suckers,  or 
red-fin;  they  might  be  —  and  more  often  were  — 
kith  and  kin  of  his  own.  It  was  all  the  same  to 
the  big  trout,  who  knew  as  well  as  any  gourmet 
that  trout  were  royal  fare.  His  wide  jaws  and 
capacious  gullet  were  big  enough  to  accommodate 
a  cousin  a  full  third  of  his  own  size,  if  swallowed 
properly,  head  first.  His  speed  was  so  great  that 
any  smaller  fish  which  he  pursued  was  doomed, 
unless  fortunate  enough  to  be  within  instant  reach 
of  shoal  water.  Of  course,  it  must  not  be  imagined 
that  the  great  trout  was  able  to  keep  his  domain 
quite  inviolate.  When  he  was  full  fed,  or  sulking, 
then  the  finny  wanderers  passed  up  and  down  freely, 
—  always,  however,  giving  wide  berth  to  the  lair 
under  the  bank.  In  the  bright  shallows  over  against 
the  other  shore,  the  scurrying  shoals  of  pin-fish 
played  safely  in  the  sun.  Once  in  a  long  while  a 
fish  would  pass,  up  or  down,  so  big  that  the  master 


Ube  /Raster  of  (Bolfcen  pool          31 

of  the  pool  was  willing  to  let  him  go  unchallenged. 
And  sometimes  a  muskrat,  swimming  with  power- 
ful strokes  of  his  hind  legs,  his  tiny  forepaws  gath- 
ered childishly  under  his  chin,  would  take  his  way 
over  the  pool  to  the  meadow  of  the  blue  flag-flowers. 
The  master  of  the  pool  would  turn  up  a  fierce  eye, 
and  watch  the  swimmer's  progress  breaking  the 
golden  surface  into  long,  parabolic  ripples;  but  he 
was  too  wise  to  court  a  trial  of  the  muskrat's  long, 
chisel-like  teeth. 

There  were  two  occasions,  never  to  be  effaced 
from  his  sluggish  memory,  on  which  the  master 
of  the  pool  had  been  temporarily  routed  from  his 
mastership  and  driven  in  a  panic  from  his  domain. 
Of  these  the  less  important  had  seemed  to  him  by 
far  the  more  appalling. 

Once,  on  a  summer  noonday,  when  the  pool  was 
all  of  a  quiver  with  golden  light,  and  he  lay  with 
slow-waving  fins  close  to  the  coldest  up-gushing 
of  the  spring  which  cooled  his  lair,  the  shining  roof 
of  his  realm  had  been  shattered  and  upheaved  with 
a  tremendous  splash.  A  long,  whitish  body,  many 
times  his  own  length,  had  plunged  in  and  dived 
almost  to  the  bottom.  This  creature  swam  with 
wide-sprawling  limbs,  like  a  frog,  beating  the 
water,  and  leaping,  and  uttering  strange  sounds; 


32         Ube  matcbers  of  tbe  trails 

and  the  disturbance  of  its  antics  was  a  very  cata- 
clysm to  the  utmost  corners  of  the  pool.  The  trout 
had  not  stayed  to  investigate  the  horrifying  phe- 
nomenon, but  had  darted  madly  down-stream  for 
half  a  mile,  through  fall  and  eddy,  rapid  and  shal- 
low, to  pause  at  last,  with  throbbing  sides  and  pant- 
ing gills,  in  a  little  black  pool  behind  a  tree  root. 
Not  till  hours  after  the  man  had  finished  his  bath, 
and  put  on  his  clothes,  and  strode  away  whistling 
up  the  shore,  did  the  big  trout  venture  back  to  his 
stronghold.  He  found  it  already  occupied  by  a 
smaller  trout,  whom  he  fell  upon  and  devoured,  to 
the  assuaging  of  his  appetite  and  the  salving  of  his 
wounded  dignity.  But  for  days  he  was  tremulously 
watchful,  and  ready  to  dart  away  if  any  unusually 
large  shadow  passed  over  his  amber  ceiling.  He 
was  expecting  a  return  of  the  great,  white,  sprawl- 
ing visitor. 

His  second  experience  was  one  which  he  remem- 
bered with  cunning  wariness  rather  than  with  actual 
terror.  Yet  this  had  been  a  real  peril,  one  of  the 
gravest  with  which  he  could  be  confronted  in  the 
guarded  precincts  of  Golden  Pool.  One  day  he 
saw  a  little  lithe  black  body  swimming  rapidly  at  the 
surface,  its  head  above  the  water.  It  was  about 
ten  feet  away  from  his  lair,  and  headed  up-stream. 


Ube  flDaster  of  Ooloen  pool          33 

The  strange  creature  swam  with  legs,  like  a  musk- 
rat,  instead  of  with  fins  like  a  fish,  but  it  was  longer 
and  slenderer  than  a  muskrat;  and  something  in 
its  sinister  shape  and  motion,  or  else  some  stirring 
of  an  inherited  instinct,  filled  the  big  trout  with 
apprehension  as  he  looked.  Suddenly  the  stranger's 
head  dipped  under  the  surface,  and  the  stranger's 
eyes  sought  him  out,  far  down  in  his  yellow  gloom. 
That  narrow-nosed,  triangular  head  with  its  pointed 
fangs,  those  bright,  cruel,  undeceivable  eyes,  smote 
the  trout  with  instant  alarm.  Here  was  an  enemy 
to  be  avoided.  The  mink  had  dived  at  once,  going 
through  the  water  with  the  swiftness  and  precision 
of  a  fish.  Few  trout  could  have  escaped.  But  the 
master  of  the  pool,  as  we  have  seen,  was  no  ordinary 
trout.  The  promptness  of  his  cunning  had  got  him 
under  way  in  time.  The  power  of  his  broad  and 
muscular  tail  shot  him  forth  from  his  lair  just  be- 
fore the  mink  got  there.  And  before  the  baffled 
enemy  could  change  his  direction,  the  trout  was 
many  feet  away,  heading  up  for  the  broken  water 
of  the  rapids.  The  mink  followed  vindictively,  but 
in  the  foamy  stretch  below  the  falls  he  lost  all  track 
of  the  fugitive.  Angry  and  disappointed  he  scram- 
bled ashore,  and,  finding  a  dead  sucker  beside  his 
runway,  seized  it  savagely.  As  he  did  so,  there 


34         TTbe  matcbcrs  ot  tbe  trails 

was  a  smart  click,  and  the  jaws  of  a  steel  trap, 
snapping  upon  his  throat,  rid  the  wilderness  of  one 
of  its  most  bloodthirsty  and  implacable  marauders. 
A  half-hour  later  the  master  of  the  pool  was  back 
in  his  lair,  waving  his  delicate,  gay-coloured  fins 
over  the  yellow  sand,  and  lazily  swallowing  a  large 
crayfish.  One  claw  of  the  crayfish  projected  beyond 
his  black  jaw;  and,  being  thus  comfortably  occu- 
pied, he  turned  an  indifferent  eye  upon  the  fright- 
ened swimming  of  a  small  green  frog,  which  had 
just  then  fallen  in  and  disturbed  the  sheen  of  his 
amber  roof. 

Very  early  one  morning,  when  all  his  world  was 
of  a  silvery  gray,  and  over  the  glassy  pallor  of  his 
roof  thin  gleams  of  pink  were  mingled  with  ghostly, 
swirling  mist-shadows,  a  strange  fly  touched  the 
surface,  directly  above  him.  It  had  a  slender,  scar- 
let, curving  body,  with  long  hairs  of  yellow  and 
black  about  its  neck,  and  brown  and  white  wings. 
It  fell  upon  the  water  with  the  daintiest  possible 
splash,  just  enough  to  catch  his  attention.  Being 
utterly  unlike  anything  he  had  ever  seen  before, 
it  aroused  his  interest,  and  he  slanted  slowly  up- 
ward. A  moment  later  a  second  fly  touched  the 
water,  a  light  gray,  mottled  thing,  with  a  yellow 
body,  and  pink  and  green  hairs  fringing  its  neck. 


Ube  /Caster  of  Ooloen  {Pool         35 

This,  too,  was  strange  to  him.  He  rolled  a  foot 
higher,  not  with  any  immediate  idea  of  trying 
them,  but  under  his  usual  vague  impulse  to  inves- 
tigate everything  pertaining  to  his  pool.  Just  then 
the  mist-swirls  lifted  slightly,  and  the  light  grew 
stronger,  and  against  the  smooth  surface  he  detected 
a  fine,  almost  invisible,  thread  leading  from  the  head 
of  each  fly.  With  a  derisive  flirt  of  his  tail  he  sank 
back  to  the  bottom  of  his  lair.  Right  well  he  knew 
the  significance  of  that  fine  thread. 

The  strange  flies  skipped  lightly  over  the  surface 
of  the  pool,  in  a  manner  that  to  most  trout  would 
have  seemed  very  alluring.  They  moved  away 
toward  a  phenomenon  which  he  just  now  noticed 
for  the  first  time,  a  pair  of  dark,  pillar-like  objects 
standing  where  the  water  was  about  two  feet  deep, 
over  toward  the  further  shore.  These  dark  objects 
moved  a  little,  gently.  Then  the  strange  flies  dis- 
appeared. A  moment  later  they  dropped  again,  and 
went  through  the  same  performance.  This  was 
repeated  several  times,  the  big  trout  watching  with 
interest  mingled  with  contempt.  There  was  no 
peril  for  him  in  such  gauds. 

Presently  the  flies  disappeared  for  good.  A  few 
minutes  later  two  others  came  in  their  place,  —  one 
a  tiny,  white,  moth-like  thing,  the  other  a  big, 


36          Ube  TUflatcbers  of  tbe  Uratls 

bristling  bunch  of  crimson  hairs.  The  latter  stirred, 
far  back  in  his  dull  memory,  an  association  of  pain 
and  fear,  and  he  backed  deeper  into  his  watery  den. 
It  was  a  red  hackle ;  and  in  his  early  days,  when  he 
was  about  eight  inches  long  and  frequented  the 
tail  of  a  shallow,  foamy  rapid,  he  had  had  experience 
of  its  sharp  allurements.  The  little  moth  he  ig- 
nored, but  he  kept  an  eye  on  the  red  hackle  as  it 
trailed  and  danced  hither  and  thither  across  the 
pool.  Once,  near  the  other  side,  he  saw  a  mis- 
guided fingerling  dart  from  under  a  stone  in  the 
shallow  water  and  seize  the  gay  morsel.  The  fin- 
gerling rose,  with  a  jerk,  from  the  water,  and  was 
no  more  seen.  It  vanished  into  the  unknown  air; 
and  the  master  of  the  pool  quailed  as  he  marked 
its  fate.  After  this,  the  pair  of  dark,  pillar-like 
objects  moved  away  to  the  shore,  no  longer  careful, 
but  making  a  huge,  splashing  noise.  No  more 
strange  flies  appeared;  and  the  gold  light  of  full 
day  stole  down  to  the  depths  of  the  pool.  Soon, 
flies  which  the  master  well  knew,  with  no  fine 
threads  attached  to  them,  began  to  speck  the  sur- 
face over  him,  and  he  fed,  in  his  lazy  way,  without 
misgiving. 

The  big  trout  had  good  reason  for  his  dread  of 
the  angler's  lure.      His   experience   with   the   red 


TCbe  flDaster  ot  (Boloen  pool         37 

hackle  had  given  him  the  wisdom  which  had  enabled 
him  to  live  through  all  the  perils  of  a  well-known 
trout-stream  and  grow  to  his  present  fame  and 
stature.  Behind  that  red  hackle  which  hooked  him 
in  his  youth  had  been  a  good  rod,  a  crafty  head, 
and  a  skilful  wrist.  His  hour  had  sounded  then 
and  there,  but  for  a  fortunate  flaw  in  the  tackle. 
The  leader  had  parted  just  at  the  drop,  and  the 
terrified  trout  (he  had  taken  the  tail  fly)  had  darted 
away  frantically  through  the  rapids  with  three  feet 
of  fine  gut  trailing  from  his  jaw.  For  several  weeks 
he  trailed  that  hampering  thread,  and  carried  that 
red  hackle  in  the  cartilage  of  his  upper  jaw;  and 
he  had  time  to  get  very  familiar  with  them.  He 
grew  thin  and  slab-sided  under  the  fret  of  it  before 
he  succeeded,  by  much  nosing  in  gravel  and  sand, 
in  wearing  away  the  cartilage  and  rubbing  his  jaw 
clear  of  the  encumbrance.  From  that  day  forward 
he  had  scrutinized  all  unfamiliar  baits  or  lures  to 
see  if  they  carried  any  threadlike  attachment. 

When  any  individual  of  the  wild  kindreds,  furred, 
feathered,  or  finned,  achieves  the  distinction  of  baf- 
fling man's  efforts  to  undo  him,  his  doom  may  be 
considered  sealed.  There  is  no  beast,  bird,  or  fish 
so  crafty  or  so  powerful  but  some  one  man  can 
worst  him,  and  will  take  the  trouble  to  do  it  if 


38         Ube  TOlatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

the  game  seems  to  be  worth  while.  Some  lure 
would  doubtless  have  been  found,  some  scheme 
devised  for  the  hiding  of  the  line,  whereby  the 
big  trout's  cunning  would  have  been  made  foolish- 
ness. Some  swimming  frog,  some  terrified,  hurry- 
ing mouse,  or  some  great  night-moth  flopping  down 
upon  the  dim  water  of  a  moonless  night,  would 
have  lulled  his  suspicions  and  concealed  the  ines- 
capable barb;  and  the  master  of  the  pool  would 
have  gone  to  swell  the  record  of  an  ingenious  con- 
queror. He  would  have  been  stuffed,  and  mounted, 
and  hung  upon  the  walls  of  the  club-house,  down 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Clearwater.  But  it  pleased  the 
secret  and  inscrutable  deities  of  the  woods  that  the 
end  of  the  lordly  trout  should  come  in  another 
fashion. 

It  is  an  unusual  thing,  an  unfortunate  and  piti- 
ful thing,  when  death  comes  to  the  wild  kindred 
by  the  long-drawn,  tragic  way  of  overripeness. 
When  the  powers  begin  to  fail,  the  powers  which 
enabled  them  to  conquer,  or  to  flee  from,  or  to  out- 
wit their  innumerable  foes,  —  then  life  becomes  a 
miserable  thing  for  them.  But  that  is  not  for  long. 
Fate  meets  them  in  the  forest  trails  or  the  flowing 
water-paths;  and  they  have  grown  too  dull  to  see. 
too  heavy  to  flee,  too  indifferent  to  contend.  So 


Ube  flDaster  ot  Golden  pool          39 

they  are  spared  the  anguish  of  slow,  uncompre- 
hending decrepitude. 

But  to  the  master  of  Golden  Pool  Fate  came  while 
he  was  yet  master  unchallenged,  and  balked  the 
hopes  of  many  crafty  fishermen.  It  came  in  a  man- 
ner not  unworthy  of  the  great  trout's  dignity  and 
fame,  giving  him  over  to  swell  no  adversary's  tri- 
umph, betraying  him  to  no  contemptible  foe. 

One  crisp  autumn  morning,  when  leaves  were 
falling  all  over  the  surface  of  the  pool,  and  insects 
were  few,  and  a  fresh  tang  in  the  water  was  making 
him  active  and  hungry,  the  big  trout  was  swimming 
hither  and  thither  about  his  domain  instead  of 
lying  lazily  in  his  deep  lair.  He  chanced  to  be 
over  in  the  shallows  near  the  grassy  shore,  when 
he  saw,  at  the  upper  end  of  the  pool,  a  long,  dark 
body  slip  noiselessly  into  the  water.  It  was  not 
unlike  the  mink  in  form,  but  several  times  larger. 
It  swam  with  a  swift  movement  of  its  forefeet,  while 
its  hind  legs,  stretched  out  behind  with  the  tail, 
twisted  powerfully,  like  a  big  sculling  oar.  Its 
method,  indeed,  combined  the  advantages  of  that  of 
the  quadruped  and  that  of  the  fish.  The  trout  saw 
at  once  that  here  was  a  foe  to  be  dreaded,  and  he 
lay  quite  still  against  a  stone,  trusting  to  escape  the 
bright  eyes  of  the  stranger. 


4«         Ube  Watcbers  of  tbe  trails 

But  the  stranger,  as  it  happened,  was  hunting, 
and  the  stranger  was  an  otter.  The  big  trout  was 
just  such  quarry  as  he  sought,  and  his  bright  eyes, 
peering  restlessly  on  every  side,  left  no  corner  of 
the  pool  uninvestigated.  They  caught  sight  of  the 
master's  silver  and  vermilion  sides,  his  softly  wav- 
ing, gay-coloured  fins. 

With  a  dart  like  that  of  the  swiftest  of  fish,  the 
stranger  shot  across  the  pool.  The  trout  darted 
madly  toward  his  lair.  The  otter  was  close  upon 
him,  missing  him  by  a  fin's  breadth.  Frantic  now 
with  terror,  the  trout  shot  up-stream  toward  the 
broken  water.  But  the  otter,  driven  not  only  by 
his  forefeet  but  by  that  great  combined  propeller 
of  his  hind  legs  and  tail,  working  like  a  screw, 
swam  faster.  Just  at  the  edge  of  the  broken  water 
he  overtook  his  prey.  A  set  of  long,  white  teeth 
went  through  the  trout's  backbone.  There  was  one 
convulsive  twist,  and  the  gay-coloured  fins  lay  still, 
the  silver  and  vermilion  body  hung  limp  from  the 
captor's  jaws. 

For  many  days  thereafter,  Golden  Pool  lay  empty 
under  its  dropping  crimson  and  purple  leaves,  its 
slow  sailing  foam  flakes.  Then,  by  twos  and  threes, 
small  trout  strayed  in,  and  found  the  new  region 
a  good  place  to  inhabit.  When,  in  the  following 


Ube  flDaster  ot  (Boloen  pool         41 

spring,  the  fishermen  came  back  to  the  Clearwater, 
they  reported  the  pool  swarming  with  pan-fish, 
hardly  big  enough  to  make  it  worth  while  throw- 
ing a  fly.  Then  word  went  up  and  down  the  Clear- 
water  that  the  master  of  the  pool  was  gone,  and 
the  glory  of  the  pool,  for  that  generation  of  fisher- 
men, went  with  him. 


"Return  to  the  Graile 


"  HE   WOULD    SIT   BACK    AND    WHINE    FOR    HIS    MOTHER.' 


IReturn  to  tbe  Gratia 

i  OWN  from  the  rocky  den  under  the  bald 
peak  of  Sugar  Loaf,  the  old  black  bear 
led  her  cub.  Turning  her  head  every 
moment  to  see  that  he  was  close  at  her  heels,  she 
encouraged  him  with  soft,  half-whining,  half-grunt- 
ing sounds,  that  would  have  been  ridiculous  in  so 
huge  a  beast  had  they  been  addressed  to  anything 
less  obviously  a  baby  than  this  small,  velvet-dark, 
wondering-eyed  cub. 

Very  carefully  the  old  bear  chose  her  path,  and 
very  slowly  she  moved.  But  for  all  her  care,  she 
had  to  stop  every  minute  or  two,  and  sometimes 
even  turn  back  a  few  paces,  for  the  cub  was  contin- 
ually dropping  behind.  His  big,  inquiring  ears 
took  in  all  the  vague,  small  noises  of  the  mountain- 
side, puzzling  over  them.  His  sharp  little  nose 
went  poking  in  every  direction,  sniffing  the  strange 
new  smells,  till  he  would  get  bewildered,  and  forget 
which  foot  to  put  forward  first.  Then  he  would 
sit  back  and  whine  for  his  mother. 
45 


46         Ube  matcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

It  was  the  cub's  first  adventure,  this  journey 
down  the  world  outside  his  den.  Hitherto  he  had 
but  played  about  his  doorway. 

When  the  little  fellow  had  somewhat  recovered 
from  his  first  bewilderment,  the  old  bear  moved 
more  rapidly,  leading  him  toward  a  swampy,  grassy 
pocket,  where  she  thought  there  might  be  roots 
to  dig.  The  way  was  steep,  winding  down  between 
rocks  and  stunted  trees  and  tangles  of  thick  shrub- 
bery, with  here  and  there  a  black-green  spur  of  the 
fir  forests  thrust  up  tentatively  from  the  lower 
slopes.  Now  and  again  it  led  across  a  naked  shoulder 
of  the  mountain,  revealing,  far  down,  a  landscape  of 
dark,  wide  stretching,  bluish  woods,  with  desolate, 
glimmering  lakes  strung  on  a  thread  of  winding 
river.  When  these  vast  spaces  of  emptiness  opened 
suddenly  upon  his  baby  eyes,  the  cub  whimpered  and 
drew  closer  to  his  mother.  The  swimming  deeps 
of  air  daunted  him. 

Presently,  as  the  two  continued  their  slow  jour- 
ney, the  mother  bear's  nostrils  caught  a  new  savour. 
She  stopped,  lifted  her  snout,  and  tested  the  wind 
discriminatingly.  It  was  a  smell  she  had  encoun- 
tered once  before,  coming  from  the  door  of  a  lumber 
camp.  Well  she  remembered  the  deliciousness  of 
the  lump  of  fat  bacon  which  she  had  succeeded  in 


"Return  to  tbe  trails  47 

purloining  while  the  cook  was  out  getting  water. 
Her  thin,  red  tongue  licked  her  lips  at  that  mem- 
ory, and,  without  hesitation,  she  turned  up  the  side 
trail  whence  came  the  luring  scent.  The  cub  had 
to  stir  his  little  legs  to  keep  pace  with  her,  but  he 
felt  that  something  interesting  was  in  the  wind, 
and  did  his  best. 

A  turn  around  a  thick  clump  of  juniper,  and  there 
was  the  source  of  the  savour.  It  looked  pleasantly 
familiar  to  the  old  bear,  that  lump  of  fat  bacon. 
It  was  stuck  on  the  end  of  a  pointed  stick,  just  under 
a  sort  of  slanting  roof  of  logs,  which,  in  a  way, 
reminded  her  of  the  lumbermen's  cabin.  The  cabin 
had  done  her  no  harm,  and  she  inferred  that  the 
structure  before  her  was  equally  harmless.  Never- 
theless, the  man  smell,  not  quite  overpowered  by 
the  fragrance  of  the  bacon,  lurked  about  it;  and 
all  the  works  of  man  she  viewed  with  suspicion. 
She  snatched  hastily  at  the  prize,  turning  to  jump 
away  even  as  she  did  so. 

But  the  bacon  seemed  to  be  fastened  to  the  stick. 
She  gave  it  an  impatient  pull,  —  and  it  yielded 
suddenly.  At  that  same  instant,  while  her  eyes 
twinkled  with  elation,  that  roof  of  massive  logs 
came  crashing  down. 

It  fell  across  her  back.     Weighted  as  it  was  with 


48          Ube  Watcbers  of  tbe  trails 

heavy  stones,  it  crushed  the  life  out  of  her  in  a 
second.  There  was  a  coughing  gasp,  cut  off 
abruptly;  and  the  flattened  form  lay  still,  the  wide- 
open  mouth  and  protruding  tongue  jammed  down 
among  the  mosses.  At  the  crash  the  cub  had 
jumped  back  in  terror.  Then  he  sat  up  on  his 
haunches  and  looked  on  with  anxious  bewilderment. 

When,  early  the  following  morning,  the  Indian 
who  had  set  the  deadfall  came,  he  found  the  cub 
near  perishing  with  cold  and  fear  and  hunger.  He 
knew  that  the  little  animal  would  be  worth  several 
bearskins,  so  he  warmed  it,  wrapped  it  in  his  jacket, 
and  took  it  home  to  his  cabin.  Fed  and  sheltered, 
it  turned  to  its  captor  as  a  rescuer,  and  acquired 
a  perilous  faith  in  the  friendliness  of  man.  In  fact, 
it  speedily  learned  to  follow  the  Indian  about  the 
cabin,  and  to  fret  for  him  in  his  absence. 

That  same  autumn  the  Indian  took  the  cub  into 
Edmundston  and  sold  him  for  a  price  that  well  re- 
paid his  pains;  and  thence,  within  three  or  four 
months,  and  by  as  many  transfers,  the  little  animal 
found  his  way  into  the  possession  of  a  travelling 
circus.  Being  good-natured  and  teachable,  and  in- 
clined, through  his  first  misunderstanding  of  the 
situation  which  had  robbed  him  of  his  mother,  to 


ttbe  IReturn  to  tbe  Gratis  49 

regard  mankind  as  universally  beneficent,  he  was 
selected  to  become  a  trick  bear.  In  the  course  of 
his  training  for  this  honour,  he  learned  that  his 
trainer,  at  least,  was  not  wholly  beneficent,  and 
toward  him  he  developed  a  cordial  bitterness,  which 
grew  with  his  years.  But  he  learned  his  lessons, 
nevertheless,  and  became  a  star  of  the  ring;  and 
for  the  manager  of  the  show,  who  always  kept 
peanuts  or  gingerbread  in  pocket  for  him,  he  con- 
ceived such  a  warmth  of  regard  as  he  had  hitherto 
strictly  reserved  for  the  Indian. 

Valued  and  well  cared  for,  he  grew  to  a  mag- 
nificent stature,  and  up  to  the  middle  of  his  fifth 
year  he  never  knew  what  his  life  was  missing.  To 
be  sure,  it  was  exasperatingly  monotonous,  this 
being  rolled  about  the  world  in  stuffy,  swaying 
cage-cars,  and  dancing  in  the  ring,  and  playing 
foolish  tricks  with  a  red-and-white  clown,  and  being 
stared  at  by  hot,  applauding,  fluttering  tiers  of  peo- 
ple, who  looked  exactly  the  same  at  every  place  he 
came  to.  His  memory  of  that  first  walk  down  the 
mountain,  at  his  great  mother's  heels,  had  been 
laid  to  sleep  at  the  back  of  his  curiously  occupied 
brain.  He  had  no  understanding  of  the  fierce  rest- 
lessness, the  vague  longing,  which  from  time  to 
time,  and  especially  when  the  autumn  frosts  began 


so         ZTbe  Watcbers  ot  tbe  Uraite 

to  nip  and  tingle,  would  take  possession  of  him, 
moving  him  almost  to  hatred  of  even  his  special 
friends,  the  manager  and  the  clown. 

One  vaporous,  golden  afternoon  in  early  autumn, 
the  circus  drew  into  the  little  town  of  Edmundston, 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Madawaska  River.  When  the 
noise  of  the  train  stopped,  the  soft  roar  of  the 
Little  Falls  grew  audible,  —  a  voice  at  which  all 
the  weary  animals  pricked  their  ears,  they  knew 
not,  most  of  them,  why.  But  when  the  cars  and 
cages  were  run  out  into  the  fields,  where  the  tents 
were  to  be  raised,  there  drew  down  from  spruce- 
clad  hills  a  faint  fragrance  which  thrilled  the  bear's 
nostrils,  and  stirred  formless  longings  in  his  heart, 
and  made  his  ears  deaf  to  the  wild  music  of  the 
falls.  That  fragrance,  imperceptible  to  nostrils  less 
sensitive  than  his,  was  the  breath  of  his  native 
wilderness,  a  message  from  the  sombre  solitudes  of 
the  Squatook.  He  did  not  know  that  the  lonely 
peak  of  Sugar  Loaf  was  but  thirty  or  forty  miles 
away.  He  knew  only  that  something,  in  the  air 
and  in  his  blood,  was  calling  him  to  his  own. 

The  bear  —  well-taught,  well-mannered,  well- 
content —  was  not  regarded  as  even  remembering 
freedom,  let  alone  desiring  it.  His  fetters,  there- 
fore, were  at  times  little  more  than  nominal,  and 


Ube  IReturn  to  tbe  trails  51 

he  was  never  very  closely  watched.  Just  on  the 
edge  of  evening,  when  the  dusk  was  creeping  up 
the  valley  and  honey-scents  from  the  fields  mixed 
with  the  tang  of  the  dark  spruce  forests,  his  oppor- 
tunity came.  His  trainer  had  unhitched  the  chain 
from  his  collar  and  stooped  over  it  to  examine  some 
defect  in  the  clasp. 

At  this  instant  that  surge  of  impulse  which,  when 
it  does  come,  shatters  routine  and  habit  to  bits, 
seized  the  bear.  Without  premeditation,  he  dealt 
the  trainer  a  cuff  that  knocked  him  clean  over  a 
wagon-pole  and  broke  his  arm.  Before  any  of  the 
other  attendants  could  realize  what  had  happened, 
the  bear  was  beyond  the  circle  of  wagons,  and  half- 
way across  the  buckwheat-fields.  In  ten  minutes 
more  he  was  in  the  spicy  glooms  of  the  spruce- 
woods. 

His  years  of  association  with  men  had  given  the 
bear  a  great  confidence  in  their  resources.  He  was 
too  crafty,  therefore,  to  slacken  his  efforts  just 
because  he  had  gained  the  longed-for  woods.  He 
pressed  on  doggedly,  at  a  shambling,  loose-jointed, 
but  very  effective  run,  till  it  was  full  night  and  the 
stars  came  out  sharply  in  the  patches  of  clear,  dark 
sky  above  the  tree-tops.  In  the  friendly  dark  he 
halted  to  strip  the  sweet  but  insipid  fruit  of  an 


52         Ube  THttatcbers  of  tbe  TTrafls 

Indian  pear,  which  for  a  little  assuaged  his  appetite. 
Then  he  rushed  on,  —  perhaps  aimlessly,  as  far  as 
conscious  purpose  was  concerned,  but,  in  reality, 
by  a  sure  instinct,  making  toward  his  ancestral 
steeps  of  Sugar  Loaf. 

All  night  he  travelled ;  and  in  the  steely  chill  of 
dawn  he  came  out  upon  a  spacious  lake.  The  night 
had  been  windless,  and  now,  in  the  first  of  the  com- 
ing light,  the  water  was  smooth  like  blue-black  oil 
under  innumerable  writhing  wisps  and  streamers 
of  mist.  A  keen  smell,  raw  but  sweet,  rose  from 
the  wet  shores,  the  wet  spruce  and  fir  woods,  and 
the  fringe  of  a  deep  cedar  swamp  near  by.  The 
tired  animal  sniffed  it  with  an  uncomprehending 
delight.  He  did  not  recognize  it,  yet  it  made  him 
feel  at  home.  It  seemed  a  part  of  what  he  wanted. 

Being  thirsty  as  well  as  hungry,  he  pushed 
through  the  bushes,  —  not  noiselessly,  as  a  wild 
bear  moves,  but  with  crashings  and  tramplings,  as 
if  there  were  no  need  of  secrecy  in  the  wilds,  —  and 
lurched  down  to  the  gravelly  brink.  Here,  as  luck 
would  have  it,  he  found  a  big,  dead  sucker  lying 
half-awash,  which  made  him  a  meal.  Then,  when 
sharp  streaks  of  orange  along  the  eastern  horizon 
were  beginning  to  shed  a  mystic  colour  over  the 
lake,  he  drew  back  into  the  woods  and  curled  him- 


iReturn  to  tbe  Uratte  53 

self  up  for  sleep  behind  the  trunk  of  a  big  hem- 
lock. 

When  the  sun  was  about  an  hour  high  he  awoke, 
and  made  haste  to  continue  his  journey.  Along 
the  lake  shore  he  went,  to  the  outlet;  then  down 
the  clear,  rushing  Squatook;  and  in  the  afternoon 
he  came  out  upon  a  smaller  lake,  over  which  stood 
sentinel  a  lofty,  beetling  mountain.  At  the  foot 
of  the  mountain,  almost  seeming  to  duplicate  it  in 
miniature,  a  steep  island  of  rock  rose  sharply  from 
the  water. 

The  bear  halted  on  the  shore,  sniffed  wistfully, 
and  looked  up  at  the  lonely  mountain.  Dim  memo- 
ries, or  emotions  too  dim  to  be  classed  as  memories, 
began  to  stir  in  the  recesses  of  his  brain.  He  hur- 
ried around  the  lake  and  began  to  climb  the  steeps. 
The  lonely  mountain  was  old  Sugar  Loaf.  The 
exile  had  come  home. 

It  was  his  feet,  rather  than  his  head,  perhaps,  that 
knew  the  way  so  well.  Upward  he  toiled,  through 
swamps  and  fir  woods,  over  blueberry  barrens  and 
ranges  of  granite  boulders,  till,  looking  down,  he 
saw  the  eagle  flying  far  below  him.  He  saw  a  vast, 
empty  forest  land,  beaded  with  shining  lakes,  —  and 
a  picture,  long  covered  up  in  his  brain,  came  back 
to  him.  These  were  the  great  spaces  that  so  long 


54         Ube  TRUatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

ago  had  terrified  the  little  cub  creeping  at  his 
mother's  heels.  He  knew  now  where  his  den  was, 
—  just  behind  that  whitish  gray  rock  with  the  juni- 
per shrub  over  it.  He  ran  eagerly  to  resume  pos- 
session. 

It  was  now,  for  the  first  time,  that  he  found  the 
wilderness  less  empty  than  he  had  imagined  it.  An- 
other bear  was  in  possession  of  the  den,  —  and  in 
no  mood  to  be  disturbed. 

He  flung  himself  upon  the  intruder  with  a  savage 
roar.  The  next  moment  the  two,  clutched  in  a 
madly  clawing  embrace,  went  crashing  through  a 
fringe  of  bushes  and  rolled  together  down  a  twenty- 
foot  slope  of  bald  rock.  They  landed  in  a  crevice 
full  of  roots,  with  a  violence  that  half-stunned  them 
and  threw  them  apart.  As  they  picked  themselves 
up,  it  was  plain  that  the  exile  had  had  the  best  of 
the  tussle.  His  rich  black  fur,  to  be  sure,  was 
somewhat  torn  and  bloody,  but  he  showed  no  other 
signs  of  battle ;  while  his  antagonist  breathed  heavily 
and  held  one  paw  clear  of  the  ground. 

The  exile  was  quite  fearless,  and  quite  ready  to 
fight  for  what  he  wanted,  if  necessary.  But  he  was 
not  conscious  of  any  particular  ill-will  toward  his 
assailant.  What  he  wanted  was  possession  of  that 
den.  Now,  instead  of  taking  advantage  of  his  ad- 


THE    EAGLE   FLYING    FAR    BELOW    HIM.' 


IReturn  to  tbe  Urails  55 

versary's  partly  disabled  condition,  he  clambered 
with  undignified  haste  up  the  steep  rock  and  plunged 
into  the  cave.  It  was  certainly  much  smaller  than 
he  had  imagined  it,  but  it  was,  nevertheless,  much 
to  his  taste.  He  turned  around  in  it  two  or  three 
times,  as  if  to  adjust  it  to  himself,  th,en  squatted 
on  his  haunches  in  the  entrance  and  looked  out 
complacently  over  the  airy  deeps.  The  dispossessed 
bear  stood  for  a  few  minutes  irresolute,  his  small 
eyes  red  with  wrath.  For  a  moment  or  two  he 
hesitated,  trying  to  work  himself  up  to  the  attack. 
Then  discretion  came  to  his  rescue.  Grumbling 
deep  in  his  throat,  he  turned  and  limped  away,  to 
seek  new  quarters  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain. 
Now  began  for  the  returned  exile  two  or  three 
months  of  just  such  a  life  as  he  had  longed  for.  The 
keen  and  tonic  winds  that  blew  around  the  peak 
of  Sugar  Loaf  filled  his  veins  with  vigour.  Through 
his  lack  of  education  in  the  lore  of  the  wilderness, 
his  diet  was  less  varied  than  it  might  have  been; 
but  this  was  the  fat  of  the  year,  and  he  fared  well 
enough.  When  the  late  berries  and  fruits  were  all 
gone  there  were  sweet  tubers  and  starchy  roots  to 
be  grubbed  up  along  the  meadow  levels  by  the 
water.  Instinct,  and  a  spirit  of  investigation,  soon 
taught  him  to  find  the  beetles  and  grubs  that  lurked 


56          Ube  TKHatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

under  stones  or  in  rotting  logs,  —  and  in  the  course 
of  such  a  search  he  one  day  discovered  that  ants 
were  good  to  eat.  But  the  small  animals  with  which 
a  wild  bear  is  prone  to  vary  his  diet  were  all  absent 
from  his  bill  of  fare.  Rabbits,  woodchucks,  chip- 
munks, wood-mice,  they  all  kept  out  of  his  sight. 
His  ignorance  of  the  law  of  silence,  the  universal 
law  of  the  wild,  deprived  him  of  many  toothsome 
morsels.  As  for  the  many  kinds  of  fungus  which 
grew  upon  the  mountain,  he  knew  not  which  were 
edible  and  which  poisonous.  After  an  experiment 
with  one  pleasant-smelling  red-skinned  specimen, 
which  gave  him  excruciating  cramps,  he  left  the 
whole  race  of  fungi  severely  alone. 

For  perhaps  a  month  he  had  the  solitudes  to  him- 
self, except  for  the  big,  scornful-looking  eagle  which 
always  spent  a  portion  of  every  day  sitting  on  the 
top  of  a  blasted  pine  about  a  hundred  feet  above 
the  den.  But,  at  length,  one  crisp  morning,  when 
he  was  down  by  the  lakeside  fishing,  he  found  a 
mate.  A  young  she-bear  came  out  of  the  bushes, 
looked  at  him,  then  turned  as  if  to  run  away,  —  but 
didn't.  The  exile  stopped  fishing,  and  waited  civilly 
to  see  if  the  newcomer  wanted  to  fight.  Evidently 
she  had  no  such  desire. 

The  exile  took  a  few  steps  up  the  beach,  —  which 


TReturn  to  tbe  Urafls  57 

action  seemed  to  terrify  the  newcomer  almost  into 
flight.  Seeing  this,  he  sat  down  on  his  haunches 
amiably,  and  waited  to  see  what  she  would  do. 
What  she  did,  after  much  hesitation  and  delay  and 
half-retreat,  was  to  come  up  to  his  side  and  sniff 
trustfully  but  wonderingly  at  the  great  iron-studded 
leather  collar  on  his  neck.  After  that  the  two  soon 
reached  an  understanding;  and  for  the  next  six 
weeks  or  so  they  spent  most  of  their  time  together. 

Under  his  mate's  instruction,  or  else  by  force  of 
her  example,  the  big  bear  made  some  progress  in 
woodcraft,  and  gained  some  inklings  of  the  lesson 
of  silence.  He  learned,  also,  to  distinguish  between 
the  wholesome  and  the  poisonous  fungi.  He 
learned  the  sweets  of  a  bee-tree,  and  how  a  bear 
must  go  to  work  to  attain  them.  Moving  through 
the  shadows  more  quietly,  he  now  had  glimpses  of 
rabbits  and  chipmunks,  and  even  caught  sight  of 
a  wood-mouse  whisking  into  his  hole  under  a  root. 
But  before  he  had  acquired  the  cunning  to  capture 
any  of  these  shy  kindreds,  his  mate  wandered  away, 
on  her  own  affairs  intent;  and  he  found  himself 
once  more  alone.  Frosts  by  this  time  were  binding 
swale  and  pool.  Ice  was  forming  far  out  from 
the  edges  of  the  lake.  The  first  snows  had  fallen 
and  the  great  snows  were  threatening.  And  the 


58          Ube  Watcbers  of  tbe  trails 

little  she-bear  was  getting  ready  to  creep  into  a 
hole  and  curl  up  for  her  winter's  sleep.  She  no 
longer  wanted  company,  —  not  even  the  company 
of  this  splendid,  black  comrade,  whose  collar  had 
so  filled  her  with  admiration. 

When,  at  length,  the  winter  of  the  north  had 
fairly  settled  down  upon  the  Squatooks,  the  exile's 
ribs  were  well  encased  in  fat.  But  that  fortunate 
condition  was  not  to  last  long.  When  the  giant 
winds,  laden  with  snow  and  Arctic  cold,  thundered 
and  shrieked  about  the  peak  of  Sugar  Loaf,  and  in 
the  loud  darkness  strange  shapes  of  drift  rode  down 
the  blast,  he  slept  snugly  enough  in  the  narrow 
depths  of  his  den.  But  the  essential  winter  lore 
of  his  kind  he  had  not  learned.  He  had  not  learned 
to  sleep  away  the  time  of  storm  and  famine.  As 
for  instinct,  it  failed  him  altogether  in  this  emer- 
gency. During  his  five  years  of  life  with  the  circus, 
he  had  had  no  chance  to  gratify  his  winter  drowsi- 
ness, and  gradually  the  power  to  hibernate  had 
passed  away  from  him.  The  loss  was  irremediable. 
By  this  one  deprivation  his  contact  with  man  had 
ruined  him  for  the  life  of  nature. 

When  man  has  snatched  away  from  Nature  one 
of  her  wild  children,  Nature,  merciless  in  her  re- 
sentments, is  apt  to  say,  "  Keep  him !  He  is  none  of 


Ube  tReturn  to  tbe  Urails  59 

mine !  "  And  if  the  alien,  his  heart  aching  for  his 
own,  insists  upon  returning,  Nature  turns  a  face 
of  stone  against  him. 

Unskilled  in  hunting  as  he  was,  and  unable  to 
sleep,  the  bear  was  soon  driven  to  extremes.  At 
rare  intervals  he  succeeded  in  capturing  a  rabbit. 
Once  or  twice,  after  a  fierce  frost  had  followed  a 
wet  sleet  storm,  he  had  climbed  trees  and  found 
dead  birds  frozen  to  their  perches.  But  most  of 
the  time  he  had  nothing  but  starvation  rations  of 
wood-ants  and  buds.  In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks 
he  was  lean  as  a  heron,  and  his  collar  hung  loose  in 
his  fur.  He  was  growing  to  hate  the  icy  and  glit- 
tering desolation,  —  and,  as  he  had  once  longed 
for  an  untried  freedom,  now  he  longed  for  the 
companionship  of  men. 

He  was  now  wandering  far  afield  in  his  daily 
quest  for  food,  sometimes  not  returning  for  three 
or  four  days  at  a  time.  Once,  on  an  excursion  over 
into  the  Madawaska  Valley,  he  came  upon  a  deadfall 
temptingly  baited  with  pork.  He  rushed  forward 
ravenously  to  snatch  the  bait,  —  but  just  in  time 
that  scent  called  up  an  ancient  memory.  The  horror 
and  the  shock  of  that  far-off  day  when  such  a  trap 
had  crushed  his  mother's  life  out,  came  back  upon 
him.  It  was  not  the  scene,  exactly,  that  came  back, 


*o         Ube  'Qdatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

out  rather  the  memory  of  an  anguish.  Obscure  as 
it  was,  it  had  power  to  master  his  appetite  and  drive 
him  to  another  foraging-ground.  Thenceforth  he 
foraged  no  more  in  the  Madawaska  Valley. 

In  such  a  desolate  fashion  the  exile  dragged 
through  the  frozen  weeks,  till  February  came  in 
with  deeper  snows  and  fiercer  frosts.  At  this  time 
hunger  and  loneliness  drove  him  far  over  to  the 
valley  of  the  Toledi ;  and  here,  one  still  and  biting 
day,  he  came  upon  a  human  trail. 

Delightedly  he  sniffed  at  the  familiar  scent,  which 
to  him,  as  pleasant  memories  of  food  and  compan- 
ionship welled  up  in  his  heart,  represented  nothing 
but  kindliness.  His  little  disagreements  with  his 
trainer  were  forgotten.  He  remembered  only  his 
unfailing  friends,  the  manager  and  the  clown.  The 
trail  was  a  broad  and  mixed  one,  —  the  trail  of  oxen, 
and  of  men  with  larriganed  feet.  It  led  toward  a 
camp  of  lumbermen,  near  the  river.  Joyously  and 
confidently  the  exile  followed  it.  Soon  he  heard 
men's  voices,  and  the  familiar  clank  of  chains.  Then 
a  biting  breeze  drew  through  the  forest,  —  biting, 
but  sweet  to  the  bear's  nostrils.  It  carried  a  savour 
of  richness  from  the  cook's  steaming  boilers.  It  was 
dinner-hour  at  the  camp. 

For  the  second  time  in  his  life,  the  bear  felt  that 


Ube  "Return  to  tbe  trails  61 

he  had  come  home.  Captive,  indeed,  he  had  been 
among  men,  —  but  a  captive  always  highly  valued 
and  needfully  cared  for.  He  never  for  a  moment 
doubted  that  these  men-creatures,  who  had  always 
wanted  him,  would  want  him  now.  They  would 
chain  him  up,  of  course,  —  for  fear  he  would  change 
his  mind  and  leave  them  again.  But  they  would  feed 
him,  —  all  he  could  eat ;  and  stare  at  him ;  and 
admire  him.  Then  he  would  dance  for  them,  and 
do  foolish  things  with  a  gun,  and  perhaps  stand 
on  his  head.  Whereupon  they  would  applaud,  and 
laugh,  and  feed  him  with  peanuts  and  gingerbread. 
His  famished  jaws  dripped  at  the  thought. 

Within  the  camp  one  of  the  hands,  glancing  from 
the  window,  saw  him  just  as  he  came  in  view.  In 
an  instant  every  man  was  looking  out.  The  bold- 
ness of  the  animal  stirred  up  a  great  excitement. 
His  terrible  leanness  was  noticed.  He  was  coming 
straight  for  the  door,  —  evidently  savage,  insane 
with  hunger !  And  such  a  big  fellow,  too ! 

Men  seized  their  axes.  The  boss  snatched  down 
his  big-bore  Snider  rifle,  slipped  in  a  cartridge,  and 
coolly  threw  open  the  cabin  door.  He  was  a  tall, 
ruddy-faced,  wide-mouthed  man,  much  like  the 
kindly  manager  of  the  show.  At  sight  of  him,  stand- 


62         ube  Matcbers  of  tbe  trails 

ing  there  in  the  door,  the  bear  was  overjoyed,  and 
broke  into  a  shuffling  run. 

Seeing  what  seemed  to  them  such  reckless  ferocity, 
the  lumbermen  cried  out  in  amazement,  and  shouted 
hoarse  warnings  to  the  boss.  But  the  boss  was  a 
man  of  nerve.  Raising  his  rifle  to  the  shoulder,  he 
stepped  right  out  clear  of  the  door.  He  was  a  dead 
shot,  and  very  proud  of  the  fact.  When  the  bear 
was  within  thirty  paces  of  him,  he  fired. 

The  massive  bullet  sped  true;  and  the  exile  fell 
forward  on  his  snout  without  a  gasp,  shot  through 
the  brain. 

The  men  gathered  about  the  body,  praising  the 
shot,  praising  the  prize,  praising  the  reckless  audac- 
ity which  had  led  the  beast  to  rush  upon  his  doom. 
Then  in  the  long,  loose  fur  that  clothed  his  bones 
they  found  the  heavy  collar.  At  that  they  all  won- 
dered. The  boss  examined  it  minutely,  and  stood 
pondering ;  and  the  frank  pride  upon  his  face  grad- 
ually died  into  regret. 

"  I  swan,  boys,"  said  he,  presently,  "  if  that  ain't 
the  b'ar  that  run  away  from  the  circus  las'  fall! 
I  heard  tell  he  was  reckoned  always  kind ! " 


Xlttle  "TOolf  of  tbe  poo? 


little  molt  of  tbe  pool 

v£HE  bottom  of  the  pool  (it  was  too  small  to 
be  called  a  pond)  was  muddy,  with  here 
and  there  a  thicket  of  rushes  or  arrow- 
weed  stems.  Down  upon  the  windless  surface 
streamed  the  noon  sun  warmly.  Under  its  light 
the  bottom  was  flecked  with  shadows  of  many  pat- 
terns, —  circular,  heart-shaped,  spear-shaped,  netted, 
and  barred.  There  were  other  shadows  that  were 
no  more  than  ghosts  of  shadows,  cast  by  faint,  diaph- 
anous films  of  scum  which  scarcely  achieved  to 
blur  the  clear  downpour  of  radiance,  but  were  never- 
theless perceived  and  appreciated  by  many  of  the 
delicate  larval  creatures  which  made  a  large  part  of 
the  life  of  the  pool. 

For  all  its  surface  tranquillity  and  its  shining 
summer  peace,  the  pool  was  thronged  with  life.  Be- 
neath the  surface,  among  the  weeds  and  stalks,  the 
gleams  and  shadows,  there  was  little  of  tranquillity 
or  peace.  Almost  all  the  many-formed  and  strange- 
shaped  inhabitants  of  the  pool  were  hunting  or  being 


66         Ube  Watcbers  of  tbc  Urails 

hunted,  preying  or  being  preyed  upon,  —  from  the 
goggle-eyed,  green-throated  bullfrog  under  the  wil- 
low root,  down  to  the  swarming  animalculae  which 
it  required  a  microscope  to  see.  Small  crawling 
things  everywhere  dotted  the  mud  or  tried  to  hide 
under  the  sticks  and  stones.  Curled  fresh-water 
snails  moved  up  and  down  the  stems  of  the  lilies. 
Shining  little  black  water-bugs  scurried  swiftly  in  all 
directions.  In  sheltered  places  near  the  surface, 
under  the  leaves,  wriggled  the  slim  gray  larvae  of 
the  mosquitoes.  And  hither  and  thither,  in  flickering 
shoals,  darted  myriads  of  baby  minnows,  from  half 
an  inch  to  an  inch  and  a  half  in  length. 

In  a  patch  of  vivid  sunshine,  about  six  inches 
from  a  tangle  of  arrow-weed  stems,  a  black  tadpole 
lay  basking.  Light  to  him  meant  not  only  growth, 
but  life.  Whenever,  with  the  slow  wheeling  of 
the  sun,  the  shadow  of  a  lily  leaf  moved  over  him, 
he  wriggled  impatiently  aside,  and  settled  down 
again  on  the  brightest  part  of  the  mud.  Most  of  the 
time  he  seemed  to  be  asleep ;  but  in  reality  he  was 
keeping  that  incessant  sharp  lookout  which,  for  the 
pool-dwellers,  was  the  price  of  survival. 

Swimming  slowly  up  toward  the  other  side  of  the 
arrow-weed  sterns,  came  a  fantastic-looking  creature, 
something  more  than  an  inch  and  a  half  in  length. 


Ube  Xittle  TKHolf  of  tbe  pool         67 

It  had  a  long,  tapering,  ringed  and  armoured  body, 
ending  in  a  spine;  a  thick,  armoured  thorax,  with 
six  legs  attached;  and  a  large  head,  the  back  of 
which  was  almost  covered  by  two  big,  dully  staring 
globes  of  eyes.  The  whole  front  of  its  head  —  part 
of  the  eyes,  and  all  the  face  —  was  covered  by  a 
smooth,  cleft,  shieldlike  mask,  reaching  well  down 
under  the  breast,  and  giving  the  creature  an  ex- 
pression both  mysterious  and  terrible.  On  its  back, 
folded  close  and  obviously  useless,  were  rigidly  en- 
cased attempts  at  wings. 

The  little  monster  swam  slowly  by  the  motion  of 
its  long  and  strong  legs,  thrusting  out  two  short, 
hornlike  antennae  over  the  top  of  its  mask.  It  seemed 
to  be  eyeing  a  snail-shell  on  a  stem  above,  and  wait- 
ing for  the  snail's  soft  body  to  emerge  from  the 
citadel;  when  on  a  sudden,  through  the  stems,  it 
caught  sight  of  the  basking  tadpole.  Instantly  it 
became  motionless,  and  sank,  like  a  waterlogged 
twig,  to  the  level  of  the  mud.  It  crept  around, 
effacing  itself  against  the  brown  and  greenish  roots, 
till  it  was  just  opposite  the  quarry.  Then  it  sprang, 
propelling  itself  not  only  by  its  legs,  but  by  the 
violent  ejection  of  a  little  stream  of  water  from  the 
powerful  breathing-valves  near  its  tail. 

The  tadpole,  as  we  have  seen,  was  not  asleep. 


68         Ube  Watcbers  of  tbe  tTrafls 

With  a  convulsive  wriggle  of  its  tail  it  darted  away 
in  a  panic.  It  was  itself  no  mean  swimmer,  but  it 
could  not  escape  the  darting  terror  that  pursued. 
When  the  masked  form  was  almost  within  reach 
of  its  victim,  the  mask  dropped  down  and  shot 
straight  out,  working  on  a  sort  of  elbow-shaped 
lever,  and  at  the  same  time  revealed  at  its  extremity 
a  pair  of  powerful  mandibles.  These  mandibles 
snapped  firm  hold  of  the  victim  at  the  base  of  its 
wriggling  tail.  The  elbow-shaped  lever  drew  back, 
till  the  squirming  prize  was  held  dose  against  its 
captor's  face.  Then  with  swift  jets  from  the  tur- 
bine arrangement  of  its  abdominal  gills,  the  strange 
monster  darted  back  to  a  retreat  among  the  weed 
stems,  where  it  could  devour  its  prey  in  seclusion. 
Under  those  inexorable  jaws  the  tadpole  soon  dis- 
appeared and  for  a  few  minutes  the  monster  rested, 
working  its  mandibles  to  and  fro  and  rubbing  them 
with  its  front  legs  before  folding  back  that  inscru- 
table mask  over  its  savage  face.  Presently  a  plump 
minnow,  more  than  an  inch  long,  with  a  black  stripe 
along  its  bronze  and  silver  sides,  swam  down  close 
by  the  arrow-weed  stems.  The  big  eyes  of  the 
monster  never  moved.  But,  suddenly,  out  shot  the 
mask  once  more,  revealing  the  face  of  doom  behind 
it ;  and  those  hooked  mandibles  fixed  themselves  in 


Xtttle  TKHolf  of  tbe  pool         69 

the  belly  of  the  minnow.  Inexorable  as  was  the 
grip,  it  nevertheless  for  the  moment  left  unimpeded 
the  swimming  powers  of  the  victim;  and  he  was 
a  strong  swimmer.  With  lashing  tail  and  beating 
fins,  he  dragged  his  captor  out  from  among  the  weed 
stems.  For  a  few  seconds  there  was  a  vehement 
struggle.  Then  the  minnow  was  borne  down  upon 
the  mud,  out  in  the  broad  sheen  where,  a  little  before, 
the  tadpole  had  been  basking.  Clutching  ferociously 
with  its  six  long  legs,  the  conqueror  crawled  over  the 
prey  and  bit  its  backbone  in  two. 

Swift,  strong,  insatiably  ravenous,  immeasurably 
fierce,  the  larva  of  the  dragon-fly  (for  such  the 
little  monster  was)  had  fair  title  to  be  called  the 
wolf  of  the  pool.  Its  appearance  alone  was  enough 
to  daunt  all  rivals.  Even  the  great  black  carnivorous 
water-beetle,  with  all  its  strength  and  fighting  equip- 
ment, was  careful  to  give  wide  berth  to  that  dreadful, 
quick-darting  mask.  Had  these  little  wolves  been 
as  numerous  as  they  were  rapacious,  there  would 
soon  have  been  left  no  life  at  all  in  the  pool  but 
theirs  and  that  of  the  frogs.  Between  these  there 
would  have  been  a  long  and  doubtful  struggle,  the 
frogs  hunting  the  larvae  among  the  weed  stems,  and 
the  larvae  devouring  the  tadpoles  on  their  basking- 
grounds. 


70         ZTbe  Matcbers  of  tbe  {Trails 

It  chanced  that  the  particular  larva  whose  pro- 
ceedings we  have  noted  was  just  on  the  eve  of 
that  change  which  should  transport  it  to  the  world 
of  air.  After  eating  the  minnow  it  somehow  failed 
to  recover  its  appetite,  and  remained,  all  the  rest 
of  the  day  and  through  the  night,  clinging  to  one 
of  the  weed  stems.  Next  morning,  when  the  sun 
was  warm  on  the  pool,  it  crawled  slowly  up,  up,  up, 
till  it  came  out  into  a  new  element,  and  the  untried 
air  fanned  it  dry.  Its  great  round  eyes,  formerly 
dull  and  opaque,  had  now  grown  transparent,  and 
were  gleaming  like  live  jewels,  an  indescribable 
blend  of  emerald,  sapphire,  and  amethyst.  Presently 
its  armour,  now  for  the  first  time  drying  in  the  sun, 
split  apart  down  the  back,  and  a  slender  form, 
adorned  with  two  pairs  of  crumpled,  wet  wings, 
struggled  three-quarters  of  its  length  from  the  shell. 
For  a  short  time  it  clung  motionless,  gathering 
strength.  Then,  bracing  its  legs  firmly  on  the  edges 
of  the  shell,  it  lifted  its  tail  quite  clear,  and  crawled 
up  the  weed  a  perfect  dragon-fly,  forgetful  of  that 
grim  husk  it  was  leaving  behind.  A  few  minutes 
later,  the  good  sun  having  dried  its  wings,  it  went 
darting  and  hurtling  over  the  pool,  a  gemlike,  opal- 
escent shining  thing,  reflected  gloriously  in  the 
polished  mirror  beneath. 


Cbe  Xtttle  Wolt  of  tbe  Hir 


Sbe  little  IRIIolf  of  tbe  Hit 

HE  pool  lay  shimmering  and  basking  in  the 
flood  of  the  June  sun.  On  three  sides,  east, 
west,  and  north,  the  willows  and  birches 
gathered  close  about  it,  their  light  leafage  hanging 
motionless  in  the  clear,  still  heat.  On  the  south 
side  it  lay  open  toward  the  thick-grassed  meadows, 
where  bees  and  flies  of  innumerable  species  flickered 
lazily  over  the  pale  crimson  clover-blooms.  From 
the  clover-blooms  and  the  vetch-blooms,  the  wheel- 
rayed  daisies,  and  the  tall  umbels  of  the  wild  parsnip, 
strange  perfumes  kept  distilling  in  the  heat  and 
pulsing  in  across  the  pool  on  breaths  of  air  too  soft 
to  ruffle  its  surface. 

Above  this  unruffled  surface  the  air  was  full  of 
dancing  life.  Gnats  hung  in  little,  whirling  nebulae ; 
mosquitoes,  wasplike  flies,  and  whirring,  shard- 
winged  beetles,  passed  and  repassed  each  other  in 
intricate  lines  of  flight ;  and,  here  and  there,  lucently 
flashing  on  long,  transparent,  veined  wings,  darted 
the  dragon-flies  in  their  gemlike  mail.  Their  move- 

73 


74          Ube  UGlatcbers  ot  tbe  trails 

ments  were  so  swift,  powerful,  and  light  that  it  was 
difficult,  in  spite  of  their  size  and  radiant  colour,  to 
detect  the  business  that  kept  the  dragon-flies  so  in- 
cessantly and  tirelessly  in  action.  Sometimes  two 
or  three  would  hurtle  out  for  a  brief  expedition  over 
the  blossoming  meadow.  Often  one  would  alight 
for  a  moment  on  a  leaf  or  twig  in  the  sun,  and  lie 
there  gleaming,  its  two  pairs  of  wings  flatly  out- 
spread in  a  way  that  showed  every  delicate  interla- 
cing of  the  nerves.  Then  it  would  rise  again  into 
the  air  with  a  bold,  vehement  spring;  and  when 
ever  it  began  its  flight,  or  whenever  it  abruptly 
changed  the  direction  of  its  flight,  its  wings  would 
make  a  dry,  sharp,  rustling  sound. 

The  business  that  so  occupied  these  winged  and 
flashing  gems,  these  darting  iridescences,  was  in 
truth  the  universal  business  of  hunting.  But  there 
were  few  indeed  among  all  the  kindred  of  earth,  air, 
and  water  whose  hunting  was  so  savage  and  so 
ravenous  as  that  of  these  slender  and  spiritlike 
beings.  With  appetites  insatiable,  ferocity  im- 
placable, strength  and  courage  prodigious  for  their 
stature,  to  call  them  the  little  wolves  of  the  air  is 
perhaps  to  wrong  the  ravening  gray  pack  whose 
howlings  strike  terror  down  the  corridors  of  the 
winter  forest.  Mosquitoes  and  gnats  they  hunted 


Xittle  Molf  ot  tbe  Htt          75 

every  moment,  devouring  them  in  such  countless 
numbers  as  to  merit  the  gratitude  of  every  creature 
that  calls  the  mosquito  its  foe.  But  every  summer 
fly,  also,  was  acceptable  prey  to  these  indomitable 
hunters,  every  velvet-bodied  moth,  every  painted 
butterfly.  And  even  the  envenomed  wasp,  whose 
weapon  no  insect  can  withstand,  was  not  safe.  If 
the  dragon-fly  could  catch  her  engrossed  in  some 
small  slaughter  of  her  own,  and,  pouncing  upon  her 
from  above,  grip  the  back  of  her  armed  abdomen 
in  his  great  grinding  jaws,  her  sting  could  do  noth- 
ing but  dart  out  vainly  Tike  a  dark,  licking  flame; 
and  she  would  prove  as  good  a  meal  as  the  most 
unresisting  bluebottle  or  horse-fly. 

Down  to  the  pool,  through  the  luxurious  shadows 
of  the  birches,  came  a  man,  and  stretched  himself 
against  a  leaning  trunk  by  the  waterside.  At  his 
approach,  all  the  business  of  life  and  death  and 
mating  in  his  immediate  neighbourhood  came  to  a 
halt,  and  most  of  the  winged  kindred,  except  the 
mosquitoes,  drew  away  from  him.  The  mosquitoes, 
to  whom  he  had  become,  so  to  speak,  in  a  measure 
acclimatized,  attacked  him  with  less  enthusiasm  than 
they  would  have  displayed  in  the  case  of  a  stranger, 
and  failed  to  cause  him  serious  annoyance.  He 


76          ZTbe  'GClatcbers  of  tbe  Uraite 

fixed  himself  in  a  position  that  was  thoroughly  com- 
fortable, and  then  lay  quite  still. 

The  man's  face  was  under  the  shadow  of  the 
birch-tree,  but  his  body  lay  out  in  the  full  sun,  and 
the  front  of  his  soft  white  summer  shirt  made  a 
patch  of  sharp  light  against  the  surrounding  tones 
of  brown  and  green.  When  it  had  for  a  time  re- 
mained quite  still,  the  patch  of  whiteness  attracted 
attention,  and  various  insects  alighted  upon  it  to 
investigate.  Presently  the  man  noticed  a  very  large 
steel-blue  dragon-fly  on  rustling  wings  balancing  in 
the  air  a  few  feet  in  front  of  him.  At  this  moment, 
from  a  branch  overhead,  a  hungry  shrike  dashed 
down.  The  dragon-fly  saw  the  peril  just  in  time; 
and,  instead  of  fleeing  desperately  across  the  pool, 
to  be  almost  inevitably  overtaken  by  the  strong- 
winged  bird,  it  dashed  forward  and  perched  for 
refuge  on  a  fold  of  the  dazzling  white  shirt.  The 
foiled  shrike,  with  an  angry  and  astonished  twitter, 
flew  off  to  a  tree  across  the  pool. 

For  perhaps  a  minute  the  great  fly  stood  with 
moveless,  wide-spread  wings,  scintillating  aerial 
hues  as  if  its  body  was  compacted  of  a  million 
microscopic  prisms.  The  transparent  tissue  of  its 
wings  was  filled  with  a  finer  and  more  elusive  iri- 
descence. The  great  rounded,  globose,  overlapping 


Ube  Xittle  molt  of  tbe  Bit          77 

jaws,  half  as  big  as  the  creature's  whole  head,  kept 
opening  and  shutting,  as  if  to  polish  their  edges. 
The  other  half  of  its  head  was  quite  occupied  by 
two  bulging,  brilliant  spheres  of  eyes,  which  seemed 
to  hold  in  their  transparent  yet  curiously  impene- 
trable depths  a  shifting  light  of  emerald  and  violet. 
These  inscrutable  and  enormous  eyes  —  each  one 
nearly  as  great  in  circumference  as  the  creature's 
body  —  rolled  themselves  in  a  steady  stare  at  the 
man's  face,  till  he  felt  the  skin  of  his  cheeks  creep 
at  their  sinister  beauty.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  a 
spirit  hostile  and  evil  had  threatened  him  from 
beneath  those  shining  eyes;  and  he  was  amused 
to  experience,  for  all  his  interest,  a  sense  of  half- 
relief  when  the  four  beautiful  wings  hurtled  crisply 
and  the  creature  darted  away. 

It  would  seem,  however,  that  the  fold  of  white 
shirt  had  found  favour  in  those  myteriously  gleam- 
ing eyes;  for  a  minute  or  two  later  the  same  fly 
returned  to  the  same  spot.  The  man  recognized  not 
only  its  unusual  size  and  its  splendour  of  colour, 
but  a  broken  notch  on  one  of  its  wing  films,  the 
mark  of  the  tip  of  a  bird's  beak.  This  time  the 
dragon-fly  came  not  as  a  fugitive  from  fate,  but  as 
a  triumphant  dispenser  of  fate  to  others.  It  carried 


7«         Ubc  TOlatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

between  its  jaws  the  body  of  a  small  green  grass- 
hopper, which  it  had  already  partly  eaten. 

Fixing  the  enigmatic  radiance  of  its  eyes  upon 
the  man's  face,  the  dragon-fly  calmly  continued  its 
meal,  using  the  second  joints  of  its  front  pair  of 
legs  to  help  manipulate  the  rather  awkward  morsel. 
Its  great  round  jaws  crushed  their  prey  resistlessly, 
while  the  inner  mouth  sucked  up  the  juices  so  cleanly 
and  instantaneously  that  the  repast  left  no  smallest 
stain  upon  the  man's  spotless  shirt.  When  the  feast 
was  over  there  remained  nothing  of  the  victim  but 
a  compact,  perfectly  rounded,  glistening  green  ball, 
the  size  of  a  pea,  made  up  of  the  well-chewed  shell- 
like  parts  of  the  grasshopper's  body.  It  reminded  the 
man  of  the  round  "  castings  "  of  fur  or  feathers 
which  an  owl  ejects  after  its  undiscriminating  ban- 
quet. Having  rolled  the  little  green  ball  several 
times  between  its  jaws,  to  make  sure  there  was  no 
particle  of  nourishment  left  therein,  the  dragon-fly 
coolly  dropped  it  into  a  crease  in  the  shirt-bosom, 
and  rustled  away. 

It  chanced  that  this  particular  and  conspicuous 
individual  of  the  little  wolves  of  the  air  was  a 
female.  A  half-hour  later,  when  the  man  had 
almost  grown  tired  of  his  watching,  he  again  caught 
sight  of  the  great  fly.  This  time  she  alighted  on 


TTbe  OLfttle  Wolf  of  tbe  Hit          79 

a  half -submerged  log,  one  end  of  which  lay  on  shore 
by  the  man's  feet,  while  the  other  end  was  afloat  in 
deep  water,  where  it  could  rise  and  fall  with  every 
change  in  the  level  of  the  pool.  Quivering  and 
gleaming  with  all  her  subtle  fires,  the  dragon-fly 
stood  motionless  on  the  log  for  a  few  seconds.  Then 
she  backed  down  close  to  the  water's  edge,  thrust 
her  long,  slender  abdomen  a  good  inch  into  the 
water,  and  curled  it  under  her  as  if  she  were  trying 
to  sting  the  hidden  surface  of  the  log.  In  reality, 
as  the  man  at  once  understood,  she  was  busy  laying 
eggs,  —  eggs  that  should  presently  develop  into 
those  masked  and  terrible  larvae  of  hers,  the  little 
wolves  of  the  pool.  She  laid  the  eggs  in  a  row 
under  the  log,  where  there  was  no  danger  of  the 
water  receding  from  them.  She  moved  along  the 
log  daintily,  step  by  step,  and  her  wings  fluttered 
over  the  task. 

The  man  had  taken  out  his  watch  as  soon  as  he 
saw  what  she  was  about,  in  order  that  he  might  time 
the  egg-laying  process.  But  he  was  not  destined  to 
discover  what  he  wanted  to  know.  The  dragon-fly 
had  been  at  her  business  for  perhaps  two  minutes, 
when  the  man  saw  a  large  frog  rise  to  the  surface 
just  below  her.  He  liked  all  dragon-flies,  —  and 
for  this  one  in  particular  he  had  developed  a  personaJ 


8o         Ube  TRUatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

interest.  Suddenly  and  violently  he  jumped  to  his 
feet,  hoping  to  chase  her  away  from  the  approach- 
ing doom.  But  he  was  just  too  late.  As  he  jumped, 
the  big  frog  sprang,  and  a  long,  darting,  cleft  tongue 
clutched  the  busy  fly,  dragging  her  down.  The  frog 
disappeared  with  his  prize,  —  to  come  to  the  surface 
again  at  the  edge  of  a  lily-pad,  a  few  feet  off,  and 
blink  his  goggle-eyes  in  satisfaction.  He  had 
avenged  (though  about  that  he  cared  as  little  as 
he  knew)  the  lives  of  a  thousand  tadpoles. 


Gbe  alien  of  tbe 


Cbe  Hlien  of  tbe 

FULL  day's  tramp  back  from  the  settle- 
ment, on  the  edge  of  a  water-meadow 
beside  the  lonely  Quah-Davic,  stood  the 
old  woodsman's  cabin.  Beside  it  he  had  built  a 
snug  log-barn,  stored  with  hay  from  the  wild 
meadow.  The  hay  he  had  made  that  August,  being 
smitten  with  a  desire  for  some  touch  of  the  civiliza- 
tion to  which  as  a  whole  he  could  not  reconcile 
himself.  Then,  with  a  still  enthusiasm,  he  had  built 
his  barn,  chinking  its  crevices  scrupulously  with 
moss  and  mud.  He  had  resolved  to  have  a  cow.  The 
dream  that  gave  new  zest  to  all  his  waking  hours 
was  the  fashioning  of  a  little  farm  in  this  sunny, 
sheltered  space  about  his  cabin.  He  had  grown  some- 
what weary  of  living  by  trap  and  snare  and  gun, 
hunting  down  the  wild  creatures  whom  he  had  come 
to  regard,  through  lapse  of  the  long,  solitarv  vears 
by  the  Ouah-Davic,  as  in  some  sense  comrade  and 
kin  to  him. 

It  was  late  autumn,  and  the  asters  fading  out 

•a 


84         Ube  Matcbers  ot  tbe  Gratis 

like  smoke  along  the  river  edges,  when  the  bam 
was  finished  and  the  hay  safe  stored  therein.  Then 
the  old  woodsman  journeyed  out  to  the  settlement 
to  buy  his  cow.  He  found  one  exactly  to  his  whim- 
sical liking,  —  a  small,  dark  red,  long-horned  scrub, 
with  a  look  in  her  big,  liquid  eyes  that  made  him 
feel  she  would  know  how  to  take  care  of  herself  in 
the  perilous  wilds.  He  equipped  her  with  the  most 
sonorous  and  far-sounding  bell  he  could  find  in  all 
the  settlement.  Then  proudly  he  led  her  away  to  her 
new  domain  in  the  wilderness. 

When  the  long-horned  little  cow  had  been  salted 
and  foddered  in  the  new  barn,  and  when  her  liquid 
eyes  had  taken  in  the  surroundings  of  the  sunny 
little  meadow  and  cabin  by  the  lonely  Quah-Davic, 
she  was  well  enough  content,  and  the  mellow  tunk- 
a-tonk,  tank  tonk  of  her  bell  was  sounded  never 
out  of  ear-shot  from  the  cabin.  The  meadow 
and  the  nearest  fringes  of  the  woods  were  range 
enough  for  her.  Of  the  perils  that  might  lurk  in  the 
further  depths  she  had  a  wary  apprehension.  And 
the  old  woodsman,  busy  grubbing  out  a  narrow 
cellar  under  his  cabin,  was  happy  in  his  purchase. 
The  tunk-a-tonk  of  the  mellow  bell  was  sweetest 
music  in  his  ears  as  he  worked. 

Now  it  chanced  that  that  autumn  was  one  of 


Ube  Hlien  of  tbe  mil*  85 

unusual  drought.  In  the  channel  of  the  Quah-Davic 
rocks  appeared  which  the  old  woodsman  had  never 
seen  before.  The  leaves  fell  early,  before  half  their 
wonted  gamut  of  colour  was  run  through.  They 
wore  a  livery  of  pallid  tones  —  rusty-reds,  cloudy 
light  violets,  grayish  thin  golds,  ethereal  russets  — 
under  a  dry,  pale  sky.  The  only  solid,  substantial 
colouring  was  that  of  the  enduring  hemlocks  and 
the  sombre,  serried  firs.  Then  there  came  a  misti- 
ness in  the  air,  making  the  noonday  sun  red  and 
unradiant.  And  the  woodsman  knew  that  there 
were  forest  fires  somewhere  up  the  wind. 

A  little  anxious,  he  studied  the  signs  minutely, 
and  concluded  that,  the  wind  being  light,  the  fires 
were  too  far  distant  to  endanger  the  Quah-Davic 
region.  Thereupon  he  decided  to  make  a  hurried 
trip  to  the  settlement  for  a  sack  of  middlings  and 
other  supplies,  planning  to  return  by  night,  making 
the  round  trip  within  the  twenty-four  hours  in  order 
that  the  little  red  cow  should  not  miss  more  than  one 
milking. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  woodsman's  going,  how- 
ever, the  wind  freshened  into  a  gale,  and  the  fires 
which  had  been  eating  leisurely  way  through  the 
forest  were  blown  into  sudden  fury.  That  same 
evening  a  hurricane  of  flame  swept  down  upon  the 


86          Ube  TRIlatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

lonely  cabin  and  the  little  wild  meadow,  cutting 
a  mile-wide  swath  through  the  woods,  jumping  the 
Quah-Davic,  and  roaring  on  to  the  north.  It  was 
days  before  the  woodsman  could  get  back  along  the 
smoking,  smouldering  trail,  through  black,  fallen 
trunks  and  dead  roots  which  still  held  the  persistent 
fire  in  their  hearts.  Of  cabin  and  barn,  of  course, 
there  was  nothing  left  at  all,  save  the  half-dug 
cellar  and  the  half-crumbled  chimney.  Sick  at  heart 
and  very  lonely,  he  returned  to  the  settlement,  and 
took  up  his  new  abode  on  a  half-reclaimed  farm 
on  the  outskirts,  just  where  the  tilth  and  the  wilder- 
ness held  each  other  at  bay. 

The  red  cow,  meanwhile,  being  shrewd  and  alert, 
had  escaped  the  conflagration.  She  had  taken  alarm 
early,  having  seen  a  fire  in  the  woods  once  before 
and  conceived  an  appreciation  of  its  powers.  In- 
stead of  flying  straight  before  it,  and  being  inevi- 
tably overtaken,  she  ran  at  once  to  the  river  and 
galloped  madly  down  the  shallow  margin.  Before 
the  flames  were  actually  upon  her,  she  was  beyond 
the  zone  of  their  fury.  But  she  felt  the  withering 
blast  of  them,  and  their  appalling  roar  was  in  her 
ears.  With  starting  eyes  and  wide,  palpitating  nos- 
trils, she  ran  on  and  on,  and  stopped  only  when  she 
sank  exhausted  in  a  rude  cove.  There  she  lay  with 


Ube  Hlien  of  tbe  TK1U&  87 

panting  sides  and  watched  far  behind  her  the  wide 
red  arc  of  terror  drawn  across  the  sky. 

The  next  day  she  wandered  some  miles  farther 
down  the  Quah-Davic,  till  she  came  to  a  neighbour- 
hood where  the  water-meadows  were  strung  thickly 
along  the  stream  and  where  the  pasturage,  though 
now  dry  and  untasty,  was  abundant.  Back  from 
the  water-meadows  was  a  region  of  low  hills  covered 
with  a  second  growth  of  young  birches  and  poplars. 
Among  the  hills  were  ravines  thick  with  hemlock 
and  spruce.  Here  she  established  herself,  and  at 
night,  either  because  she  missed  the  narrow  quarters 
of  her  stable,  or  because  some  wild  instinct  within 
her  led  her  to  adapt  herself  quickly  to  the  ways  of 
the  wild  kindred,  she  would  make  her  lair  in  the 
deepest  and  most  sheltered  of  the  ravines,  where 
a  peculiarly  dense  hemlock  veiled  the  front  of  an 
overhanging  rock.  This  retreat  was  almost  as  snug 
as  her  old  stable;  and,  lying  down  with  her  long 
horns  toward  the  opening,  she  felt  comparatively 
secure.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  though  all  these  woods 
of  the  Quah-Davic  were  populous  with  the  furtive 
folk,  the  little  red  cow  saw  few  signs  of  life.  She 
was  surrounded,  wherever  she  moved,  by  a  wide  ring 
of  resentful  solitude.  The  inexplicable  tunk-a-tonk, 
tunk,  tonk  of  her  deep-throated  bell  was  disquiet- 


88          TIbe  TKHatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 


ing  to  all  the  forest  kindred;  and  the  least  move 
of  her  head  at  night  was  enough  to  keep  the  most 
interested  prowler  at  a  distance  from  the  lair  behind 
the  hemlock.  There  was  not  a  bear,  a  wolf,  or  a 
panther  on  the  Quah-Davic  (there  was  but  a  single 
pair  of  panthers,  indeed,  within  a  radius  of  fifty 
miles!)  that  cared  to  investigate  the  fighting  qual- 
ities of  this  keen-horned  red  creature  with  the  in- 
explicable voice. 

Till  the  snow  fell  deep,  covering  the  dry  grass 
on  the  meadows,  the  little  cow  throve  well  enough. 
But  when  the  northern  winter  had  fairly  settled  in, 
and  the  great  white  stillness  lay  like  sleep  upon  the 
ancient  wood,  and  the  fir-trees,  with  their  cloaking 
of  snow,  were  so  many  spires  and  domes  and  pin- 
nacles of  glittering  marble  under  the  icy  sunlight, 
then  the  wanderer  would  have  starved  if  she  had 
not  chanced  to  be  both  resourceful  and  indomitable. 
From  her  lair  under  the  hemlock,  which  was  shel- 
tered from  all  winds,  her  deeply  trodden  trail  led 
both  to  the  meadows  and  the  birchen  hill-slopes. 
She  could  paw  her  way  down  to  the  deep-buried 
grasses;  but  it  took  so  much  digging  to  uncover  a 
few  -poor  and  unsatisfying  mouthfuls  that  she  could 
never  have  kept  herself  alive  in  this  fashion.  Being 
adaptable,  however,  she  soon  accustomed  herself  to 


ttbe  alien  of  tbe  mil*  89 

browsing  on  the  slimmest  of  the  birch  and  poplar 
twigs,  and  so,  having  proved  herself  one  of  the 
fittest,  she  survived.  When  the  late,  reluctant  spring 
brought  the  first  green  of  sprouting  grasses  to  the 
meadows  of  the  Quah-Davic,  it  found  the  red  cow 
a  mere  bag  of  bones,  indeed,  but  still  alive,  and  still 
presenting  an  undaunted  pair  of  horns  to  a  still  dis- 
trusted world. 

Into  this  unfriendly  world,  when  the  painted 
trilliums  and  the  purple  wake-robins  were  dotting 
every  half-exposed  glade,  was  born  a  sturdy  bull- 
calf.  His  sire  was  a  handsome  black  half-breed 
Durham  which  had  been  brought  into  the  settlement 
the  previous  summer  for  the  improvement  of  the 
scrubby  backwoods  stock.  The  calf  was  jet-black 
in  colour.  As  he  grew,  he  soon  began  to  show 
hints  of  his  sire's  broad  forehead  and  massive  fore- 
quarters.  He  had  his  mother's  large,  half-wild,  dis- 
criminating eyes;  and  his  legs,  soon  throwing  off 
the  straddling  awkwardness  of  calfhood,  developed 
his  mother's  almost  deer-like  activity. 

The  summer  passed  uneventfully  for  the  pair  of 
aliens  in  the  wilderness.  With  abundant  pasturage 
on  the  Quah-Davic  water-meadows,  they  had  no 
occasion  to  wander  into  the  perils  of  the  deep  wood ; 
and  the  little  red  cow  had  none  of  that  prevision  of 


90         Cbc  iciatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

wild  mothers,  which  leads  them  to  instruct  their 
young  in  the  two  great  vital  points  of  woodcraft,  — 
the  procuring  of  food  and  the  avoiding  of  enemies. 
She  herself  knew  little  woodcraft  save  what  she 
and  the  calf  were  absorbing  together,  unconsciously, 
day  by  day.  For  the  time  they  needed  none,  their 
food  being  all  about  them,  their  enemies  kept  at  bay 
by  the  ceaseless  tunk-a-tonk  of  the  mellow  bell. 
Thus  it  came  about  that  to  the  black  bull-calf  the 
wilderness  seemed  almost  empty  of  life,  save  for  the 
birds,  the  insects,  the  squirrels,  and  the  fish  leaping 
in  the  pool.  To  all  these  the  bell  was  a  matter  of 
indifference. 

Once  only,  late  in  the  autumn,  did  he  get  a  glimpse 
of  the  old  Quah-Davic  panther.  He  and  his  mother 
were  lying  in  the  sun  by  the  meadow's  edge,  com- 
fortably chewing  the  cud,  when  the  long,  tawny 
beast,  following  their  trail  with  more  curiosity  than 
hunger,  came  upon  them  suddenly,  and  stopped 
short  about  twenty  paces  distant.  The  little  red 
cow,  recognizing  the  most  dangerous  of  all  her 
possible  enemies,  had  sprung  to  her  feet  with  a 
bellow  and  lowered  her  defiant  horns.  Thereupon, 
the  panther  had  slunk  off  with  a  whipped  look  and 
a  drooping  tail ;  and  the  little  black  bull  conceived 
a  poor  opinion  of  panthers.  But  it  was  the  sudden 


Ube  Hlien  of  tbe  TRflilb  9* 

tonk-tonking  of  the  bell,  not  the  challenge  of  his 
redoubtable  mother,  that  had  put  the  fierce-eyed 
prowler  to  flight. 

It  was  much  the  same  with  the  bears,  who  were 
numerous  about  the  Quah-Davic.  They  regarded 
the  noisy  bell  with  hatred  and  invincible  sus- 
picion. But  for  that,  they  would  probably  have  put 
the  red  cow's  horns  to  the  test,  and  in  all  likelihood 
the  career  of  the  lonely  alien  would  have  come  to 
an  end  ere  the  snow  fell.  As  it  was,  however,  the 
black  bull-calf  never  saw  a  bear  in  any  attitude  save 
that  of  sulkily  slinking  away  from  his  mother's 
neighbourhood ;  and  therefore,  in  that  first  summer 
of  his  life,  he  conceived  a  very  dangerous  contempt 
for  bears.  As  for  the  lynxes,  —  those  soundless- 
footed,  gray  shadows  of  the  wild,  —  neither  he  nor 
his  mother  ever  saw  them,  so  fearful  were  they 
of  the  voice  of  the  bell.  But  their  screeches  and 
harsh  caterwaulings  often  filled  his  heart  with  won- 
der. Fear  he  had  as  yet  had  no  occasion  to  learn ; 
and  therefore  he  had  little  real  part  in  the  ever- 
watchful  life  of  the  wilderness. 

The  next  winter  was  a  hard  one  for  all  the  beasts 
of  the  Quah-Davic;  and,  ere  it  went  by,  the  lair 
under  the  hemlocks  was  surrounded  by  many  lynx 
tracks.  But  to  neither  red  cow  nor  black  calf  did 


92          Ube  "Cdatcbers  of  tbe  Uraite 

tracks  carry  much  significance,  and  they  had  no 
thought  for  the  perils  that  begirt  them.  Once,  in- 
deed, even  the  two  panthers  came,  and  turned  upon 
them  pale,  bright,  evil  eyes.  But  they  did  not  come 
very  near.  The  cow  shook  her  horns  at  them  de- 
fiantly; and  the  calf  shook  his  broadening,  curly 
forehead  at  them ;  and  wild  were  the  clamours  of 
the  vigilant  bell.  The  hearts  of  the  hunting 
beasts  turned  to  water  at  these  incomprehensible 
voices.  In  their  chagrin  they  shifted  their  range 
farther  east;  and  for  several  years  they  came  no 
more  to  the  water-meadows  of  the  Quah-Davic. 

Late  in  the  following  summer,  when  the  fireweed 
was  beginning  to  crimson  the  open  spaces  on  the 
hillside,  fate  came  to  the  water-meadows  in  a  form 
which  the  bell  was  powerless  to  avert.  An 
Indian,  paddling  down  the  Quah-Davic  to  the 
sea,  caught  sight  of  the  red  cow  drinking  by  the 
waterside.  He  knew  there  was  no  settlement  within 
leagues.  He  knew  the  cow  was  a  stray,  and  there- 
fore no  man's  property.  He  knew  he  wanted  fresh 
meat,  to  say  nothing  of  cowhide  for  moccasins  and 
thongs.  Up  went  his  big  smooth-bore  muzzle- 
loader.  There  was  a  deafening,  clattering  report, 
unlike  the  smart  detonation  of  a  rifle.  The  little 
red  cow  fell  on  her  knees,  with  a  cough  and  a  wild 


Ube  Hlien  of  tbe  TKIUlo  93 

clamour  of  the  bell,  then  rolled  over  in  the  shallow, 
shimmering  water.  With  a  whoop  of  exultation, 
the  Indian  thrust  ashore;  and,  as  he  did  so,  the 
black  yearling,  taught  terror  at  last  by  the  report 
and  by  the  human  voice,  broke  from  his  covert  in 
a  willow  thicket  and  dashed  wildly  into  the  woods. 

When  he  came  back,  hours  later,  the  Indian  had 
vanished,  and,  with  that  strident  bellow  of  his,  from 
which  the  calf-bleat  was  not  yet  quite  gone,  he 
trotted  down  the  bank  to  look  for  his  mother.  But 
the  smell  of  fresh  blood,  and  the  red  spectacle  which 
he  saw  on  the  pebbles  of  the  river-beach,  struck  a 
new  and  madder  terror  into  his  heart.  With  stiffly 
uplifted  tail  and  staring  eyes,  he  dashed  away  again 
into  the  woods. 

From  that  day  he  never  again  went  near  that 
particular  meadow;  neither,  though  for  days  he 
called  to  her  in  his  loneliness,  did  he  search  any  more 
for  the  mother  who  had  so  suddenly  disappeared  out 
of  his  life.  Standing  on  the  edge  of  a  bluff,  in  the 
fading  sunset,  he  would  thrust  his  head  and  neck 
out  straight  and  bellow  his  sonorous  appeal.  Then 
he  would  stop  and  listen  long  for  an  answer.  And 
as  he  called,  evening  after  evening  in  vain,  a  deeper, 
surer  tone  came  into  his  voice,  a  more  self-reliant, 


94         TTbe  "Cdatcbers  of  tbe  tTrails 

masterful  look  into  the  lonely  but  fearless  eyes  with 
which  he  surveyed  the  solitude. 

Again  came  autumn  to  the  Quah-Davic,  with  the 
pale  blue  smoke  of  asters  along  the  meadow-ledges, 
the  pale  gold  glimmer  of  birches  on  the  slopes,  and 
the  wax-vermilion  bunches  of  the  rowan-berries 
reflected  in  each  brown  pool.  By  this  time  the  black 
bull  was  of  the  stature  of  a  well-grown  two-year-old, 
massive  in  the  shoulder,  lean  and  fine  in  limb  and 
flank,  with  a  cushion  of  dense,  close,  inky  curls 
between  his  horns.  The  horns  themselves  —  very 
short,  thick,  keen-pointed  spikes  of  horns  —  were 
not  set  forward,  but  stood  out  absolutely  straight 
on  either  side  of  his  broad  black  head.  Young 
though  he  was,  he  was  an  ominous  figure  to  all  the 
furtive  eyes  that  watched  him,  as  he  stood  and  bel- 
lowed from  his  bluff  in  the  fading  sunset. 

About  this  time  it  was  that  the  young  bull  began 
to  find  the  solitude  more  populous.  Since  the  voice 
of  the  bronze  bell  was  hushed,  the  wild  creatures 
were  no  longer  held  aloof.  Hitherto  the  red  squir- 
rels and  the  indifferent,  arrogant  porcupines  were 
the  only  animals  he  had  noticed.  But  now  he  saw 
an  occasional  slim  and  snaky  mink  at  its  fishing; 
or  a  red  fox  stealing  down  upon  the  duck  asleep  in 
the  lily  patch;  or  a  weasel  craftily  trailing  one  of 


'BUT   THEY   DID   NOT  COME  VERY  NEAR," 


ttbe  Hlfen  of  tbe  milfc  95 

the  brown  hares  which  had  of  a  sudden  grown  so 
numerous.  All  these  strange  little  beasts  excited  his 
curiosity.  At  first  he  would  sniff,  and  snort,  and 
approach  to  investigate,  which  would  lead,  of  course, 
to  an  immediate  and  discouraging  disappearance. 
Only  the  fox  was  too  haughty  to  disappear.  He 
would  maintain  a  judicious  distance,  but  otherwise 
seemed  to  regard  the  inquisitive  bull  with  utter  un- 
concern. This  unconcern,  together  with  the  musky 
smell  of  the  bush-tailed  red  stranger,  at  last  so 
aggravated  the  bull  that  he  charged  furiously  again 
and  again.  But  the  fox  eluded  him  with  mocking 
ease,  till  the  bull  at  last  sulkily  ignored  him. 

The  bull's  next  important  acquaintance  was  the 
lynx.  He  was  lying  under  a  scarlet  maple,  chewing 
his  cud,  and  lazily  watching  a  rabbit  scratching  its 
ears  some  dozen  paces  distant.  Suddenly  a  sound- 
less gray  shadow  shot  from  a  thicket  and  dropped 
upon  the  rabbit.  There  was  a  squeak,  a  feeble  scuf- 
fle ;  and  then  a  big  lynx,  setting  the  claws  of  one  paw 
into  the  prey,  turned  with  a  snarl  and  eyed  venom- 
ously the  still,  dark  form  under  the  maple.  This 
seemed  like  a  challenge.  With  a  mixture  of  curi- 
osity and  indignation,  the  young  bull  got  up, 
grunted,  pawed  the  earth  once  or  twice  by  way  of 
ceremony,  and  emerged  to  the  encounter,  But  the 


96          Ube  TRUatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

lynx  had  no  stomach  to  meet  the  charge  of  that 
sturdy  front.  He  snatched  up  the  rabbit  in  his 
jaws  and  bounded  away  into  the  underbrush. 

A  few  days  later,  as  the  bull  again  lay  under  the 
scarlet  maple  and  looked  out  contemplatively  over 
his  yellow  autumn  world,  a  large  bear  lumbered 
past,  taking  his  own  well-beaten  trail  to  the  water- 
side. The  bull  lurched  to  his  feet,  and  stood  on 
guard,  for  this  was  a  formidable-looking  stranger. 
But  the  bear,  fed  fat  with  autumn  berries,  was  at 
peace  with  all  the  world.  He  gave  the  black  bull  a 
shrewd  glance  out  of  his  little  cunning  eyes,  and 
paid  no  further  attention;  and  the  bull,  seeing  no 
incentive  to  a  quarrel,  snorted  doubtfully  and  lay 
down  again.  After  this  he  saw  several  more  bears, 
but,  being  well  fed  and  lazy,  they  made  no  effort 
to  molest  him.  Then,  one  unfortunate  day,  as  he 
came  up  dripping  from  his  favourite  pool,  he  met 
one  face  to  face. 

The  bear  was  surprised,  and  halted.  He  half-set- 
tled back  upon  his  haunches,  as  if  to  turn  aside  and 
yield  the  path.  Then  he  thought  better  of  it  and 
held  his  ground,  being  at  the  moment  good-natured 
enough,  but  careful  of  his  dignity,  as  a  bear  is  apt 
to  be.  The  young  bull,  however,  was  enraged  at 
this  obstinate  intrusion  upon  his  trail.  He  was 


Ube  Hlien  of  tbe  TTOlfc  97 

unlucky  enough  to  remember  how  often  he  had  seen 
bears  slink  off  to  avoid  his  mother's  charge.  With 
an  angry  bellow,  he  lifted  his  tail,  lowered  his  head, 
and  launched  himself  upon  the  intruder. 

The  bear,  poising  himself  upon  three  legs,  grace- 
fully and  lightly  avoided  the  attack,  and  at  the  same 
instant  delivered  a  terrific  buffet  upon  the  young 
bull's  neck.  The  blow  struck  low,  where  the  muscles 
were  corded  and  massive,  or  the  neck  would  have 
been  broken.  As  it  was,  the  bull  went  staggering 
to  his  knees  at  one  side  of  the  trail,  the  blood  spurt- 
ing from  his  wounds.  In  that  moment  he  realized 
that  he  was  not  yet  a  match  for  a  full-grown  bear. 
Smarting  with  pain  and  wrath,  he  rushed  on  up  the 
trail,  and  hid  himself  in  the  old  lair  under  the  hem- 
lock. When  again,  some  days  later,  he  met  another 
bear,  he  made  haste  to  yield  the  right  of  way. 

In  the  wild,  as  in  the  world,  to  be  once  beaten 
is  to  invite  the  fist  of  fate.  While  the  young  bull's 
wounds  were  still  red  and  raw,  there  came  a  big- 
antlered,  high-shouldered  bull-moose  to  the  bluff 
overlooking  the  Quah-Davic.  The  moose  was  sur- 
prised at  sight  of  the  short-legged,  black  animal 
on  the  bluff.  But  it  was  rutting  season,  and  his 
surprise  soon  gave  way  to  indignation.  The  black 
bull,  whose  careless  eyes  had  not  yet  noticed  the 


98          Ube  tOlatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

visitor,  began  to  bellow  as  was  his  evening  wont. 
The  moose  responded  with  a  hoarse,  bleating  roar, 
thrashed  the  bushes  defiantly  with  his  antlers,  and 
shambled  up  to  the  attack.  The  bull,  astonished 
and  outraged,  stood  his  ground  boldly,  and  at  the 
first  charge  got  in  a  daunting  blow  between  the 
enemy's  antlers.  But  he  was  not  yet  strong  enough 
or  heavy  enough  to  hold  so  tough  an  antagonist, 
and,  after  a  very  few  minutes  of  fierce  grunting 
and  pushing,  he  was  thrust  clear  over  the  bank  and 
sent  rolling  down  into  the  river.  All  next  day  he 
sulked,  but  when  night  came  he  returned  to  the 
bluff,  his  eyes  red  with  rage.  He  found  the  moose 
before  him,  but  not  alone.  A  tall,  dingy-coloured, 
antlerless  cow  was  there,  fondling  her  mate's  neck 
and  ears  with  her  long,  flexible  muzzle.  This  sight 
gave  the  young  bull  a  new  and  uncomprehended 
fury,  under  the  impulse  of  which  he  would  have 
attacked  an  elephant.  But  the  moose,  thus  inter- 
rupted in  his  wooing,  was  far  more  dangerous  than 
he  had  been  the  night  before.  Like  a  whirlwind 
of  devastation  he  rushed  to  meet  the  intruder;  and 
the  young  bull  was  hopelessly  overmatched.  Within 
five  minutes  he  was  gored,  beaten  down,  pounded 
from  the  field,  and  driven  bellowing  through  the 
bushes.  For  several  weeks  he  hardly  showed  him- 


Ube  alien  ot  tbe  TKHUD  99 

self  in  the  open  meadows,  but  lurked  all  day  in  the 
thickets,  nursing  his  wounds  and  his  humiliation. 

The  next  winter  set  in  early  and  severe,  driv- 
ing the  drowsy  bears  into  their  winter  quarters  and 
their  long,  snow-comforted  sleep  before  they  had 
time  to  get  hungry  and  dangerous.  The  lynxes, 
no  longer  mystified  by  the  voice  of  the  bell,  came 
prowling  about  the  lair  beneath  the  hemlock,  but 
the  sullen  front  and  angry,  lonely  eyes  of  the  black 
'bull  held  them  in  awe.  Not  even  in  the  worst  of 
the  cold,  when  they  had  taken  to  hunting  together 
in  a  loosely  organized  pack,  did  they  dare  to  trouble 
the  bull.  When  spring  came,  it  found  him  a  big, 
burly  three-year-old,  his  temper  beginning  to  sour 
with  an  unhappiness  which  he  did  not  understand; 
and  by  the  time  the  bears  came  hungry  from  their 
winter  sleep  he  was  quite  too  formidable  to  be 
meddled  with.  Stung  by  humiliating  memories,  he 
attacked  with  fury  every  bear  he  saw;  and  they 
soon  learned  to  give  him  a  wide  berth. 

As  the  summer  wore  along,  his  loneliness  grew 
more  bitter  and  distracting.  He  would  spend  some- 
times a  full  hour  upon  the  bluff,  when  the  yellow 
day  was  fading  into  dusk,  bellowing  his  calls  acrotf 
the  stillness,  and  waiting  for  he  knew  not  what 
reply.  He  was  now  a  huge  and 


ioo        "Cbe  TKflatcbers  of  tbc  Uraite 

When,  at  last,  came  round  again  the  full  October 
moon,  and  the  spirit  of  mating  went  abroad  on  the 
crisp  air,  he  grew  more  restless  than  ever.  Then, 
one  night,  on  a  clear  white  stretch  of  sand  some 
distance  down  the  shore,  he  saw  a  cow-moose  stand- 
ing close  by  the  water.  He  was  much  interested, 
and  half  unconsciously  began  to  move  in  her  direc- 
tion. When  she  stretched  out  her  long,  ungainly 
head  and  uttered  her  harsh  call,  he  answered  with 
a  soft,  caressing  bellow.  But  at  almost  the  same 
instant  her  call  was  answered  by  another  and  a  very 
different  voice;  and  a  tall  bull-moose  strode  out 
arrogantly  upon  the  sand. 

The  black  bull's  heart  swelled  with  wrath  and 
longing.  With  a  roar  he  charged  down  from  the 
bluff;  and  the  moose,  diverted  from  his  wooing, 
turned  to  meet  the  assault.  But  he  was  no  match 
for  this  dreadful  black  bulk  that  descended  upon 
him  with  the  resistlessness  of  doom.  He  went  down 
at  the  first  crash,  a  pathetic  sprawl  of  long  limbs 
and  long,  ineffective,  beautiful  antlers;  and  barely 
escaping  with  his  life,  he  fled  away  into  the  thickets. 
Then,  satisfied  with  his  victory,  the  black  bull  lifted 
his  head  and  turned  to  the  watching  cow. 

The  cow,  after  the  manner  of  her  kind  appre- 
ciating a  conqueror,  awaited  somewhat  doubtfully 


Hlfen  ot  tbe  milt)  JQI 

his  approach.  But  when  he  was  within  a  few  feet 
of  her,  wonder  and  interest  gave  way  to  terror.  His 
bulk,  his  blackness,  his  square,  mighty  head,  his 
big,  blazing  eyes,  and  short,  thick  muzzle  filled  her 
with  repulsion  and  amazement.  His  voice,  too, 
though  unmistakably  caressing  and  persuasive,  was 
too  daunting  in  its  strangeness.  With  a  wild  snort, 
she  turned  and  fled  into  the  woods  with  a  speed  that 
he  could  not  hope  to  match. 

After  this  experience  the  black  bull's  loneliness 
grew  almost  intolerable,  and  his  temper  so  bad  that 
he  would  go  raging  up  and  down  the  woods  in 
search  of  bears  to  chase.  The  winter  cooled  him 
down  somewhat,  and  in  the  spring  his  temper  was 
not  so  raw.  But  he  was  now  troubled  with  a  spirit 
of  wandering,  and  kept  ranging  the  woods  in  every 
direction,  only  returning  to  the  young  green  of  the 
water-meadow  once  or  twice  a  day. 

One  afternoon,  however,  there  came  a  change. 
He  was  browsing  irritably  near  the  bank  when  he 
heard  voices  that  made  him  look  up  sharply.  A 
canoe  was  passing  up-stream,  poled  by  two  men. 
It  passed  slowly,  surging  against  the  current.  As 
he  looked  at  the  men,  a  dreadful  memory  stirred 
within  him.  He  recalled  the  loud  report  which  had 
driven  him  mad  with  fear  on  that  day  when  the 


lea        Ube  matcbers  of  tbe  trails 

red  cow  disappeared.  He  remembered  an  appalling 
sight  on  the  beach  of  that  lower  meadow  which  he 
had  never  visited  since.  His  eyes  went  red.  With 
a  grunt  of  fury,  he  thundered  down  the  bank  and 
out  knee-deep  into  the  current. 

The  men  in  the  canoe  were  astonished,  and  hastily 
pushed  over  toward  the  other  shore.  The  one  in  the 
bow  laid  down  his  pole  and  reached  back  for  his 
rifle.  But  the  man  in  the  stern  intervened. 

"What's  the  good  o'  shootin'  him?"  said  he. 
"  He  can't  git  at  us  here,  an'  we  ain't  a-wantin' 
for  grub.  Let  him  be !  " 

"  That's  so !  "  said  the  other,  picking  up  his  pole 
again.  "But  ain't  he  handsome?  An'  mad,  eh? 
How  do  you  suppose  he  come  here,  anyways  ?  " 

"  Strayed !  "  grunted  the  man  in  the  stern,  bend- 
ing to  his  pole  as  the  canoe  met  a  heavier  rush 
of  the  current. 

As  the  two  voyagers  pursued  their  strenuous  way 
up-stream,  rock  and  eddy  and  "  rip  "  consuming  all 
their  attention,  the  furious  bull  kept  abreast  of  them 
along  the  shore,  splashing  in  the  shallows  and  bel- 
lowing his  challenge,  till  at  length  a  deep  insetting 
of  the  current  compelled  him  to  mount  the  bank, 
along  which  he  continued  his  vain  pursuit  for  sev- 


Ube  Hlien  of  tbe  THflUfc  103 

eral  miles.  At  last  a  stretch  of  dense  swamp  headed 
him  off,  and  the  canoe  vanished  from  his  sight. 

He  was  now  in  unknown  territory,  miles  away 
from  his  meadows.  His  rage  against  the  men  had 
all  died  out,  but  some  faint  stirring  of  inherited  in- 
stincts impelled  him  to  follow  for  companionship. 
Had  they  suddenly  reappeared,  close  at  hand,  doubt- 
less his  rage  would  have  burst  forth  anew.  But 
when  they  were  gone,  he  had  to  follow.  A  dim 
intuition  told  him  that  where  they  were  going  dwelt 
some  kind  of  relief  for  his  loneliness.  He  skirted 
the  swamp,  rejoined  the  river,  and  kept  slowly  on 
his  way  up-stream,  pasturing  as  he  went.  He  had 
turned  his  back  for  ever  on  the  water-meadows  and 
the  life  of  which  he  could  not  be  a  part,  and  was  off 
on  the  quest  for  that  unknown  which  he  felt  to  be 
his  own. 

After  two  days  of  leisurely  journeying  he  passed 
through  a  belt  of  burnt  lands,  and  had  his  curiosity 
mildly  excited  by  a  blackened  chimney  rising  from  a 
heap  of  ruins  near  the  water.  Through  this  burnt 
land  he  travelled  swiftly;  and  about  dawn  of  the 
fourth  day  of  his  quest  he  came  out  upon  the  pas- 
ture-lands skirting  the  rear  of  the  settlement. 

Here  he  found  a  rude  but  strong  snake  fence,  at 
which  he  sniffed  with  wonder.  Then,  beyond  the 


104        tCbe  tRUatcbers  of  tbe  {Trails 

fence,  a  creature  shaped  something  like  himself,  but 
red  and  white  in  colour,  got  up  from  among  the 
misty  hillocks  and  stared  at  him.  But  for  the 
colour,  he  might  have  thought  it  was  the  little  red 
mother  who  had  vanished  two  years  before.  This 
was  what  he  had  come  for.  This  was  the  object  of 
his  quest.  Two  or  three  other  cows,  and  some 
young  steers,  presently  arose  and  fell  to  feeding. 
He  lowed  to  them  softly  through  the  rails,  and  they 
eyed  him  with  amiable  interest.  With  a  burst  of 
joy,  he  reared  his  bulk  against  the  fence,  bore  it 
down,  trotted  in  confidently,  and  took  command  of 
the  little  herd.  There  was  no  protesting.  Cows 
and  steers  alike  recognized  at  once  the  right  of  this 
dominant  black  stranger  to  rule ;  and  soon  he  fell  to 
pasturing  among  them  quietly,  his  heart  healed  at 
last  of  its  loneliness. 

The  two  canoemen,  meanwhile,  on  their  arrival 
at  the  settlement,  had  told  of  their  encounter  with 
the  wild  black  bull.  As  they  described  the  adventure 
to  a  little  circle  gathered  in  the  back  room  of  the 
grocery,  the  old  woodsman  whose  cabin  had  been 
burned  in  the  great  fires  was  one  of  their  most 
interested  listeners. 

"  I'll  bet  he's  mine!  I'll  bet  he's  out  of  the  little 
red  cow  I  bought  just  afore  the  fire!  "  he  exclaimed 


"  A    LORDLY    BLACK    BEAST   IN    COMMAND    OF    THE    HERD.' 


TTbe  Hlfen  ot  tbe  WU&  105 

at  last.  And  his  theory,  duly  expounded,  met  with 
general  credence. 

When,  therefore,  a  couple  of  mornings  later,  the 
old  woodsman,  on  going  to  the  pasture  to  fetch  in 
his  cows  for  the  milking,  found  a  lordly  black 
beast  in  command  of  the  herd,  he  understood  at  once. 
Fortunately  for  him,  he  understood  so  well  that  he 
took  certain  precautions,  instead  of  walking  straight 
into  the  middle  of  the  pasture  as  usual  to  get  the 
cows.  With  judgment  born  of  intuitive  understand- 
ing, he  let  down  the  pasture  bars  unnoticed,  then 
went  over  near  the  stable  door  and  called.  At  the 
familiar  summons  the  cows  lifted  their  heads,  and 
came  filing  lazily  toward  the  open  bars,  which  lay 
a  little  to  one  side  of  the  direct  way  to  the  house. 
But  the  black  bull  was  of  another  mind.  He  saw  the 
man;  and  straight  his  eyes  saw  red.  He  pawed 
the  earth,  roared  angrily,  gave  one  uncertain  glance 
at  the  cows  sauntering  away  from  him",  and  then 
charged  straight  for  the  unknown  foe.  The  works 
of  man  might,  indeed,  have  some  strange  inherited 
attraction  for  him;  but  man,  the  individual,  he 
hated  with  destructive  hate. 

The  woodsman  noticed  that  the  bull  was  not  head- 
ing for  the  bars. 


' 


io6        trbe  Matcbers  ot  tbe  TCrails 

"  The  fence'll  stop  him !  "  he  said  to  himself,  con- 
fidently. 

But  not  so.  The  wild  bull  had  no  conception  of 
the  sanctity  and  authority  of  fences.  The  stout 
rails  went  down  before  him  like  corn-stalks.  The 
old  woodsman  shook  his  head  deprecatingly,  stepped 
into  the  stable,  and  latched  the  door. 

The  bull,  much  puzzled  at  the  unaccountable  dis- 
appearance of  his  foe,  stopped  for  a  moment,  snort- 
ing, then  dashed  around  the  barn  to  see  if  the  enemy 
were  hiding  on  the  other  side.  Twice  he  circled  it, 
his  rage  increasing  instead  of  diminishing;  and  then 
he  caught  sight  of  the  man's  face  eyeing  him  calmly 
through  the  little  square  stable  window. 

He  stopped  again  to  paw  the  earth,  bellowing 
his  heavy  challenge;  and  the  old  woodsman  won- 
dered what  to  do.  He  wanted  the  splendid  black 
bull  for  his  little  herd,  but  he  was  beginning  to 
have  serious  misgivings.  Moreover,  he  wanted 
to  get  into  the  house.  He  threw  open  the  stable 
door ;  and  as  the  bull  dashed  in  he  scrambled 
through  a  manger,  swung  himself  into  the  loft, 
dropped  from  the  hay  window,  and  darted  for  the 
house  at  top  speed.  He  had  had  an  idea  of  shutting 
the  stable  door,  and  imprisoning  his  unmanageable 
visitor;  but  the  bull  was  too  quick  for  him.  He 


Ube  alien  of  tbe  "CdtiD  107 

got  the  heavy  kitchen  door  slammed  to  just  in  time. 
Thoughtfully  he  rubbed  his  grizzled  chin  as  he 
glanced  out  and  saw  the  black  beast  raging  up  and 
down  before  the  window. 

"  Can't  do  nothin'  with  that,  I'm  afeared ! "  he 
muttered. 

Just  then  the  bull  stopped  his  ravings,  turned  his 
head,  and  stared  away  up  the  road.  There  came 
a  clamour  of  gay  young  voices ;  and  the  old  woods- 
man, following  the  beast's  eyes,  saw  a  little  group 
of  children  approaching  on  their  way  to  school. 
Among  them  he  noticed  a  girl  in  a  bright  scarlet 
waist.  This  the  bull  noted  also.  He  forgot  his 
enemy  in  the  house.  He  grunted  savagely,  gave 
his  tail  a  vicious  twist,  and  trotted  down  the  lane 
toward  the  road. 

The  old  woodsman  saw  that  the  time  had  come 
for  prompt  action.  He  snatched  up  his  loaded 
rifle  from  the  corner  where  it  stood  always  ready, 
ran  out  upon  the  steps,  and  shouted  at  the  bull. 
The  great  black  animal  stopped  and  looked  around, 
mumbling  deep  in  his  throat.  He  wheeled  half- 
about  to  return  to  the  old  enemy.  Then  he  paused 
irresolutely  and  eyed  the  gay  bevy  of  children. 
Which  foe  should  he  obliterate  first? 

While  he  hesitated,  the  rifle  rang  out,  and  the 


io8        Ube  Tffilatcbers  of  tbe  Urafte 

heavy  bullet  found  its  mark  just  back  of  his  fore- 
shoulder.  He  sank  forward  upon  his  outstretched 
muzzle  and  his  knees,  his  tail  stiffening  straight  up, 
and  quivering.  Then  he  rolled  over  on  his  side. 

The  old  woodsman  strode  down  the  lane,  and 
stood  over  the  great  black  form.  His  shrewd  gray 
eyes  were  filled  with  regret  and  sympathetic  com- 
prehension. 

"Spiled!"  said  he.  "Clean  spiled  all  'round! 
The  woods,  they  wa'n't  no  place  fer  you,  so  ye  had 
to  quit  'em.  But  they  spiled  you  fer  the  habitations 
o'  man.  It's  a  born  stranger  and  an  alien  you  was, 
an'  there  wa'n't  no  place  fer  ye  neither  here  nor 
there ! " 


Stiver  jfrost 


Stiver  Jfrost 

N  the  heart  of  an  almost  impenetrable 
thicket  of  young  firs  the  rabbit  had 
crouched  all  night,  sometimes  sleeping 
the  light  sleep  of  the  woodsfolk,  sometimes  listen- 
ing to  the  swish  of  the  winter  rain  on  his 
roof  of  branches.  In  spite  of  the  storm,  he  had 
been  warm  and  dry  all  night,  only  a  big  drop 
coming  through  from  time  to  time  to  make  him 
shift  his  couch.  Hearing  the  rain,  he  was  vaguely 
puzzled  because  he  felt  so  little  of  it ;  for  he  knew 
that  even  the  densest  of  fir  thickets  were  not 
proof  against  a  prolonged  and  steady  rainfall. 
He  was  glad  to  profit,  however,  by  a  phenomenon 
which  he  could  not  comprehend,  so  he  lay  close,  and 
restrained  his  impatient  appetite,  and  kept  his  white 
fur  dry  and  warmly  fluffy.  Had  the  night  been 
fine,  he  would  have  been  leaping  gaily  hither  and 
thither  over  the  deep,  midwinter  snow,  and  brows- 
ing on  the  tender,  aromatic  shoots  of  the  young 
birches  which  dotted  the  little  woodland  valley. 
Early  in  the  night,  soon  after  the  rain  began,  the 


H2        Ube  THUatcbera  of  tbe  TTrails 

lower  air  had  turned  cold,  and  every  wet  branch 
and  twig  had  found  itself  on  a  sudden  encased  with 
ice.  Meanwhile,  in  the  upper  dark  a  warm  and 
moisture-laden  current  had  kept  drifting  up  from 
the  southwest,  and  ceaselessly  spilling  its  burden 
on  the  hushed  world.  Had  this  fine  rain  been  less 
warm,  or  had  the  wrapping  of  cold  air  next  to 
the  earth  been  deeper,  the  drops  would  have  frozen 
in  their  descent,  and  fallen  as  sleet;  but  as  it  was, 
they  waited  till  they  fell,  and  then  froze  instantly. 
Thus  every  limb,  and  branch,  and  twig,  and  every 
delicate,  perennial  frondage  of  fir  and  hemlock, 
gathered  an  ever-increasing  adornment  of  clearest 
crystal.  And  thus  it  was  that  the  rabbit  in  the 
fir  thicket  slept  dry  through  the  storm,  the  branches 
above  him  having  been  transformed  into  a  roof  of 
ice. 

The  rain  had  stopped  a  little  before  dawn,  and 
just  as  the  sunrise  colours  began  to  spread  down 
the  valley,  the  rabbit  came  hopping  out  from  his 
snug  retreat.  He  stopped  in  surprise,  sat  up,  and 
waved  his  long  ears  to  and  fro,  while  his  large, 
bulging  eyes  surveyed  the  world  in  wonder.  He 
was  a  young  rabbit,  born  the  spring  before,  and 
his  world  had  changed  in  the  night  to  something 
he  had  never  dreamed  of.  He  hopped  back  be- 


Silver  ffrost  113 

neath  the  firs  for  a  moment,  and  sniffed  about  to 
reassure  himself,  then  came  out  and  stared  again. 
The  valley  was  an  open  space  in  the  woods,  with 
wooded  hills  all  about  it  except  on  the  east,  where 
it  stretched  away  toward  the  fields  and  scattered 
farmsteads  of  the  settlement.  It  had  once  been 
cleared,  but  young  seedlings  of  birch  and  poplar 
and  maple,  with  willows  along  the  course  of  a 
hidden  stream,  had  been  suffered  to  partly  reclaim 
it.  Here  and  there  a  group  of  dark  fir  or  hem- 
lock stood  out  among  the  slenderer  saplings.  Now, 
all  this  valley  was  transmuted  to  crystal.  The 
soft  white  surface  of  the  snow  was  overlaid  with 
a  sheet  of  transparent  silver,  flashing  white  light 
and  cold  but  coloured  fire.  Every  bush  and  tree 
was  a  miracle  of  frostwork,  lavish,  inexhaustible, 
infinitely  varied,  and  of  an  unspeakable  purity  wher- 
ever it  failed  to  catch  the  young  light.  But  that 
light,  spreading  pink  and  yellow  and  rose  from  the 
growing  radiance  upon  the  eastern  horizon,  seemed 
to  penetrate  everywhere,  reflected  and  re-reflected 
from  innumerable  facets ;  and  every  ray  seemed 
to  come  from  the  live  heart  of  a  jewel.  Each  icy 
tree  and  bush  emitted  thin  threadlike  flames,  high 
and  aerial  in  tone,  but  of  a  piercing  intensity.  It 
was  as  if  the  quiet  valley  had  been  flooded  all 


H4        Ztbe  Tldatcbers  of  tbe  TTratls 

at  once  with  dust  of  emerald  and  opal,  of  sapphire 
and  amethyst  and  diamond.  And  as  the  light  grew 
the  miracle  changed  slowly,  one  keen  gleam  dy- 
ing out  as  another  flashed  into  life. 

Having  convinced  himself  that  this  dazzling  and 
mysterious  world  was  really  the  world  he  knew, 
the  rabbit  thought  no  more  about  it,  but  went 
leaping  gaily  over  the  radiant  crust  (which  was 
just  strong  enough  to  support  him)  toward  some 
young  birches,  where  he  proposed  to  nibble  a  break- 
fast. As  he  went,  suddenly  a  curious  sound  just 
under  his  feet  made  him  jump  wildly  aside.  Trem- 
bling, but  consumed  with  curiosity,  he  stared  down 
at  the  glassy  surface.  In  a  moment  the  sound  was 
repeated.  It  was  a  sharp,  impatient  tapping  against 
the  under  side  of  the  crust.  To  the  rabbit's  ears 
the  sound  conveyed  no  threat,  so  he  hopped  nearer 
to  investigate.  What  he  saw  beneath  the  clear 
shell  of  ice  was  a  cock-partridge,  his  wings  half- 
spread,  his  head  thrown  back  in  the  struggle  to 
break  from  his  snowy  grave.  His  curiosity  satisfied, 
the  rabbit  bounded  away  again,  and  fell  to  nibbling 
the  young  birch-twigs.  Of  small  concern  to  him 
was  the  doom  of  the  imprisoned  bird. 

At  dusk  of  the  preceding  evening,  when  the 
cock-partridge  went  to  roost,  there  had  been  no 


Ube  Silver  if  rest  us 

suggestion  of  rain,  but  a  bitter  air  from  the  north- 
west searching  through  the  woods.  The  wise  old 
bird,  finding  cold  comfort  on  his  perch,  had  be- 
thought him  of  a  trick  which  many  a  time  before 
had  served  his  turn.  In  the  open,  where  the  snow 
was  deep,  he  had  rocketed  down,  head  foremost, 
with  such  force  that  he  was  fairly  buried  in  the 
light,  feathery  mass.  A  little  kicking,  a  little  awk- 
ward burrowing,  and  he  had  worked  his  way  to 
a  depth  of  perhaps  two  feet.  Turning  about  and 
lifting  his  wings  gently,  he  had  made  himself  a 
snug  nest,  where  neither  wind  nor  cold  could  reach 
him,  and  where  there  was  small  likelihood  that 
any  night  marauder  would  smell  him  out.  Here 
in  the  fluffy  stillness  he  got  no  word  of  the  change 
of  the  wind,  no  hint  of  the  soft  rain  sifting  over 
him.  When  he  woke  and  started  to  revisit  the 
outer  world,  he  found  a  wall  of  glass  above  him, 
which  his  sturdy  beak  could  not  break  through.  A 
fate  that  overtakes  many  of  his  kindred  had  caught 
him  unawares. 

While  the  partridge  was  resting  after  his  strug- 
gles with  the  inexorable  ice,  through  which  he 
could  look  out  dimly  on  the  jewelled  world 
of  freedom,  a  red  fox  appeared  on  the  edge  of  the 
wood.  His  crafty  eyes  fell  on  the  rabbit,  and 


n6        trbe  TRUatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

crouching  flat,  he  crept  noiselessly  forward.  But 
the  crust,  strong  enough  to  support  the  rabbit,  was 
not  strong  enough  to  quite  support  the  heavier 
animal.  With  light,  crackling  sound  one  foot  broke 
through,  and  the  rabbit,  with  a  frightened  glance 
at  the  most  dreaded  of  all  his  foes,  went  sailing 
away  in  long  bounds.  Soundless  though  his  padded 
footfalls  were,  his  flight  was  accompanied  and 
heralded  by  a  crisp  rattling  of  icicles  as  the  frozen 
twigs  snapped  at  his  passing. 

Laboriously  the  fox  followed,  breaking  through 
at  every  other  stride,  but  hungry  and  obstinate,  and 
unwilling  to  acknowledge  himself  baffled.  Half- 
way across  the  valley,  however,  he  gave  up.  After 
pausing  a  moment  to  consider,  he  retraced  his  steps, 
having  apparently  had  some  scheme  in  mind  when 
diverted  by  the  sight  of  the  rabbit.  The  latter, 
being  young  and  properly  harebrained,  and  aware 
of  his  present  advantage,  now  came  back  by  a 
great  circle,  and  fell  to  browsing  again  on  the 
birch-twigs.  As  he  fed,  however,  he  kept  a  sharp 
eye  on  the  enemy. 

The  fox,  meanwhile,  was  growing  more  and 
more  exasperated.  He  was  happening  upon  every 
weak  spot  in  the  crust,  and  floundering  at  almost 
every  step.  All  at  once,  as  the  surface  broke  there 


Ube  Silver  ffrost  117 

came  to  his  nostrils  the  familiar  smell  of  a  par- 
tridge. It  was  a  fresh  scent.  The  fox  forgot  his 
indignation.  He  poked  his  narrow  snout  into  the 
snow,  sniffed  sharply,  and  began  to  dig  with  all 
his  might. 

Now  it  chanced  that  the  imprisoned  bird,  in  his 
search  for  an  exit,  had  worked  away  from  the 
spot  where  he  had  slept.  The  fox  was  puzzled. 
That  alluring  scent  was  all  about  him,  and  most 
tantalizingly  fresh.  He  understood  this  partridge 
trick,  and  had  several  times  made  his  knowledge 
supply  him  with  a  meal.  But  hitherto  he  had 
always  found  the  partridge  asleep;  and  he  had 
no  idea  what  the  bird  would  do  in  such  a  case  as 
the  present.  He  dug  furiously  in  one  direction, 
then  fiercely  in  another,  but  all  in  vain.  Then  he 
lifted  his  head,  panting,  his  pointed  ears  and  ruddy 
face  grotesquely  patched  with  snow.  At  this  mo- 
ment a  great  puff  of  the  white  powder  was  flapped 
into  his  eyes,  a  feathery  dark  body  jumped  up  from 
under  his  very  nose,  and  the  crafty  old  bird  went 
whirring  off  triumphantly  to  the  nearest  tree.  With 
his  tongue  hanging  out,  the  fox  stared  foolishly  after 
him,  then  slunk  away  into  the  woods.  And  the  white 
rabbit,  nibbling  at  his  birch-twigs,  was  left  in  undis- 
puted possession  of  the  scintillating  rainbow  world. 


tbe  Winter 


BS  tbe  TKJUnter 

'EHIND  the  long,  slow-winding  barrier 
of  the  dyke  the  marshes  of  Tantramar 
lay  secure,  mile  on  mile  of  blue-white 
radiance  under  the  unclouded  moon.  Outside  the 
dyke  it  was  different.  Mile  on  mile  of  tumbled, 
mud-stained  ice-cakes,  strewn  thickly  over  the 
Tantramar  flats,  waited  motionless  under  the  moon 
for  the  incoming  tide.  Twice  in  each  day  the 
far-wandering  tide  of  Fundy  would  come  in,  to 
lift,  and  toss,  and  grind,  and  roll  the  ice-cakes,  then 
return  again  to  its  deep  channels;  and  with  every 
tide  certain  of  the  floes  would  go  forth  to  be  lost 
in  the  open  sea,  while  the  rest  would  sink  back 
to  their  tumbled  stillness  on  the  mud.  Just  now 
the  flood  was  coming  in.  From  all  along  the  outer 
fringes  of  the  flats  came  a  hoarse,  desolate  roar; 
and  in  the  steady  light  the  edges  of  the  ice-field  be- 
gan to  turn  and  flash,  the  strange  motion 
creeping  gradually  inland  toward  that  impassive 
bulwark  of  the  dyke.  Had  it  been  daylight, 


i22        ube  matcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

the  chaotic  ice-field  would  have  shown  small 
beauty,  every  wave-beaten  floe  being  soiled  and 
streaked  with  rust-coloured  Tantramar  mud.  But 
under  the  transfiguring  touch  of  the  moon  the  un- 
sightly levels  changed  to  plains  of  infinite  mystery 
—  expanses  of  shattered,  white  granite,  as  it  were, 
fretted  and  scrawled  with  blackness  —  reaches  of 
loneliness  older  than  time.  So  well  is  the  mask 
of  eternity  assumed  by  the  mutable  moonlight  and 
the  ephemeral  ice. 

Nearer  and  nearer  across  the  waste  drew  the 
movement  that  marked  the  incoming  flood.  Then 
from  over  the  dyke-top  floated  a  noiseless,  win- 
nowing, sinister  shape  which  seemed  the  very 
embodiment  of  the  desolation.  The  great  white  owl 
of  the  north,  driven  down  from  his  Arctic  hunting- 
grounds  by  hunger,  came  questing  over  the  ragged 
levels.  His  long,  soft-feathered  wings  moved 
lightly  as  a  ghost,  and  almost  touched  the  ice- 
cakes  now  and  then  as  his  round,  yellow  eyes, 
savagely  hard  and  brilliant,  searched  the  dark 
crevices  for  prey.  With  his  black  beak,  his  black 
talons  protruding  from  the  mass  of  snowy  feathers 
which  swathed  his  legs,  and  the  dark  bars  on  his 
plumage,  one  might  have  fancied  him  a  being  just 


J32  tbe  Minter  Ut&e  123 

breathed  into  menacing  and  furtive  life  by  the  sor- 
cery of  the  scene. 

Suddenly,  with  a  motion  almost  as  swift  as  light, 
the  great  owl  swooped  and  struck.  Swift  as  he 
was,  however,  this  time  he  struck  just  too  late. 
A  spot  of  dark  on  the  edge  of  an  ice-cake  van- 
ished. It  was  a  foraging  muskrat  who  had  seen 
the  approaching  doom  in  time  and  slipped  into  a 
deep  and  narrow  crevice.  Here,  on  the  wet  mud, 
he  crouched  trembling,  while  the  baffled  bird  reached 
down  for  him  with  vainly  clutching  claws. 
,  On  either  side  of  the  two  ice-cakes  which  had 
given  the  muskrat  refuge,  was  a  space  of  open  mud 
which  he  knew  it  would  be  death  to  cross.  Each 
time  those  deadly  black  talons  clutched  at  him,  he 
flattened  himself  to  the  ground  in  panic;  but  there 
were  several  inches  to  spare  between  his  throat  and 
death.  The  owl  glared  down  with  fixed  and  flam- 
ing eyes,  then  gave  up  his  useless  efforts.  But 
he  showed  no  inclination  to  go  away.  He  knew 
that  the  muskrat  could  not  stay  for  ever  down  in 
that  muddy  crevice.  So  he  perched  himself  bolt  up- 
right on  the  very  edge,  where  he  could  keep  secure 
watch  upon  his  intended  victim,  while  at  the  same 
time  his  wide,  round  eyes  might  detect  any  move- 
ment of  life  among  the  surrounding  ice-cakes. 


124        Ube  TIClatcbers  of  tbe  Uratls 

The  great  flood-tides  of  Fundy,  when  once  they 
have  brimmed  the  steep  channels  and  begun  to 
invade  the  vast  reaches  of  the  flats,  lose  little  time. 
When  the  baffled  owl,  hungry  and  obstinate, 
perched  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  ice-cake  to 
wait  for  the  muskrat  to  come  out,  the  roar  of 
the  incoming  water  and  the  line  of  tossing,  gleam- 
ing floes  were  half  a  mile  away.  In  about  four 
minutes  the  fringe  of  tumult  was  not  three  hun- 
dred yards  distant,  —  and  at  the  same  time  the 
vanguards  of  the  flood,  thin,  frothy  rivulets  of 
chill  water,  were  trickling  in  through  the  crevice 
where  the  little  prisoner  crouched.  As  the  water 
touched  his  feet,  the  muskrat  took  heart  anew, 
anticipating  a  way  of  escape.  As  it  deepened  he 
stood  upright,  —  and  instantly  the  white  destruc- 
tion cruelly  watching  struck  again.  This  time 
the  muskrat  felt  those  deadly  talons  graze  the 
long,  loose  fur  of  his  back;  and  again  he  cowered 
down,  inviting  the  flood  to  cover  him.  As  much 
at  home  under  water  as  on  dry  land,  he,  counted 
on  easy  escape  when  the  tide  came  in. 

It  happens,  however,  that  the  little  kindreds  of 
the  wild  are  usually  more  wise  in  the  general  than 
in  the  particular.  The  furry  prisoner  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  crevice  knew  about  such  regular 


JSs  tbe  TKHtnter  Utt>e  125 

phenomena  as  the  tides.  He  knew,  too,  that 
presently  there  would  be  water  enough  for  him 
to  dive  and  swim  beneath  it,  where  his  dreadful 
adversary  could  neither  reach  him  nor  detect  him. 
What  he  did  not  take  into  account  was  the  way 
the  ice-cakes  would  grind  and  batter  each  other 
as  soon  as  the  tide  was  deep  enough  to  float  them. 
Now,  submerged  till  his  furry  back  and  spiky 
tail  were  just  even  with  the  surface,  his  little, 
dark  eyes  glanced  up  with  mingled  defiance  and 
appeal  at  the  savage,  yellow  glare  of  the  wide  orbs 
staring  down  upon  him.  If  only  the  water  would 
come,  he  would  be  safe.  For  a  moment  his  eyes 
turned  longingly  toward  the  dyke,  and  he  thought 
of  the  narrow,  safe  hole,  the  long,  ascending  bur- 
row, and  the  warm,  soft-lined  chamber  which  was 
his  nest,  far  up  in  the  heart  of  the  dyke,  high  above 
the  reach  of  the  highest  tides  and  hidden  from 
all  enemies.  But  here  in  the  hostile  water,  with 
a  cruel  death  hanging  just  above  him,  his  valorous 
little  heart  ached  with  homesickness  for  that  nest 
in.  the  heart  of  the  dyke;  and  though  the  water 
had  no  chill  for  his  hardy  blood,  he  shivered. 

Meanwhile,  the  long  line  of  clamour  was  rush- 
ing steadily  inland.  The  roar  suddenly  crashed 
into  thunder  on  the  prisoner's  ears  and  a  rush  of 


126        trbe  idatcbers  of  tbe 

water  swept  him  up.  The  white  owl  spread  his 
wings  and  balanced  himself  on  tiptoe,  as  the  ice- 
cake  on  which  he  was  perching  lurched  and  rolled. 
Through  all  the  clamour  his  ears,  miraculously 
keen  beyond  those  of  other  birds,  caught  an  agon- 
ized squeak  from  below.  The  jostling  ice  had 
nipped  the  muskrat's  hind  quarters. 

Though  desperately  hurt,  so  desperately  that  his 
strong  hind  legs  were  almost  useless,  the  brave 
little  animal  was  not  swerved  from  his  purpose. 
Straight  from  his  prison,  no  longer  now  a  refuge, 
he  dived  and  swam  for  home  through  the  loud 
uproar.  But  the  muskrat's  small  forelegs  are  of 
little  use  in  swimming,  so  much  so  that  as  a  rule 
he  carries  them  folded  under  his  chin  while  in  the 
water.  Now,  therefore,  he  was  at  a  piteous  dis- 
advantage. His  progress  was  slow,  as  in  a  night- 
mare, —  such  a  nightmare  as  must  often  come  to 
muskrats  if  their  small,  careless  brains  know  how 
to  dream.  And  in  spite  of  his  frantic  efforts,  he 
found  that  he  could  not  hold  himself  down  in 
the  water.  He  kept  rising  toward  the  surface 
every  other  second. 

Balancing  had  by  this  time  grown  too  difficult  for 
the  great,  white  owl,  and  he  had  softly  lifted  himself 
on  hovering  wings.  But  not  for  an  instant  had  he 


BB  tbe  TKflinter  Utoe  127 

forgotten  the  object  of  his  hunt.  What  were 
floods  and  cataclysms  to  him  in  the  face  of  his 
hunger?  Swiftly  his  shining  eyes  searched  the 
foamy,  swirling  water.  Then,  some  ten  feet  away, 
beside  a  pitching  floe,  a  furry  back  appeared  for 
an  instant.  In  that  instant  he  swooped.  The  back 
had  vanished,  —  but  unerringly  his  talons  struck 
beneath  the  surface  —  struck  and  gripped  their 
prey.  The  next  moment  the  wide,  white  wings 
beat  upward  heavily,  and  the  muskrat  was  lifted 
from  the  water. 

As  he  rose  into  the  air,  though  near  blind  with 
the  anguish  of  that  iron  grip,  the  little  victim 
writhed  upward  and  bit  furiously  at  his  enemy's 
leg.  His  jaws  got  nothing  but  a  bunch  of  fluffy 
feathers,  which  came  away  and  floated  down  the 
moonlight  air.  Then  the  life  sank  out  of  his  brain, 
and  he  hung  limply;  and  the  broad  wings  bore  him 
inland  over  the  dyke-top  —  straight  over  the  warm 
and  hidden  nest  where  he  had  longed  to  be. 


IRivals  of  ffiingwaafc 


IRtvmle  of 


WHITE  flood,  still  and  wonderful,  the 
moonlight  lay  on  the  naked  rampikes  and 
dense  thickets  of  Ringwaak  Hill.  Be- 
neath its  magic  the  very  rocks,  harsh  bulks  of 
granite,  seemed  almost  afloat ;  and  every  branch, 
spray  and  leaf,  swam  liquidly.  The  rampikes,  tower- 
ing trunks  of  pine,  fire-blasted  and  time-bleached, 
lifted  lonely  spires  of  silver  over  the  enchanted 
solitude.  - 

Apparently,  there  was  neither  sound  nor  motion 
over  all  Ringwaak,  or  over  the  wide  wilderness 
spread  out  below  its  ken.  But  along  the  secret  trails, 
threading  the  thicket,  and  skirting  the  granite 
boulders,  life  went  on  with  an  intensity  all  the 
deeper  and  more  stringent  for  the  seal  of  silence 
laid  upon  it.  The  small,  fugitive  kindreds  moved 
noiselessly  about  their  affairs,  foraging,  mating, 
sometimes  even  playing,  but  ever  watchful,  a  sleep- 
less vigilance  the  price  of  each  hour's  breath ;  while 
131 


132        Ube  TTClatcbers  ot  tbe  trails 

even  more  furtive,  but  more  intermittent  in  their 
watchfulness,  the  hunting  and  blood-loving  kin- 
dreds followed  the  trails. 

Gliding  swiftly  from  bush  to  rock,  from  rock  to 
thicket,  now  for  an  instant  clear  and  terrible  in  a 
patch  of  moonlight,  now  ghost-gray  and  still  more 
terrible  in  the  sharp-cut  shadows,  came  a  round- 
eyed,  crouching  shape.  It  was  somewhere  about  the 
size  of  a  large  spaniel,  but  shorter  in  the  body,  and 
longer  in  the  legs;  and  its  hind  legs,  in  particular, 
though  kept  partly  gathered  beneath  the  body,  in 
readiness  for  a  lightning  spring,  were  so  dispro- 
portionately long  as  to  give  a  high,  humped-up, 
rabbity  look  to  the  powerful  hind  quarters.  This 
combined  suggestion  of  the  rabbit  and  the  tiger 
was  peculiarly  daunting  in  its  effect.  The  strange 
beast's  head  was  round  and  cat-like,  but  with  high, 
tufted  ears,  and  a  curious,  back-brushed  muffle  of 
whiskers  under  the  throat.  Its  eyes,  wide  and  pale, 
shone  with  a  cold  ferocity  and  unconquerable  wild- 
'ness.  Its  legs,  singularly  large  for  the  bulk  of  its 
body,  and  ending  in  broad,  razor-clawed,  furry  pads 
of  feet,  would  have  seemed  clumsy,  but  for  the  im- 
pression of  tense  steel  springs  and  limitless  power 
which  they  gave  in  every  movement.  In  weight, 
this  stealthy  and  terrifying  figure  would  have  gone 


TTbe  "Rivals  ot  Hingwaafc  133 

perhaps  forty  pounds  —  but  forty  pounds  of  des- 
troying- energy  and  tireless  swiftness. 

As  he  crept  through  a  spruce  thicket,  his  savage 
eyes  turning  from  side  to  side,  the  lynx  came  upon 
a  strange  trail,  and  stopped  short,  crouching.  His 
stub  of  a  tail  twitched,  his  ears  flattened  back 
angrily,  his  long,  white  fangs  bared  themselves  in  a 
soundless  snarl.  A  green  flame  seemed  to  flicker 
in  his  eyes,  as  he  subjected  every  bush,  every  stone, 
every  stump  within  his  view  to  the  most  piercing 
scrutiny.  Detecting  no  hostile  presence,  he  bent  his 
attention  to  the  strange  trail,  sniffing  at  it  with 
minute  consideration. 

The  scent  of  the  trail  was  that  of  a  wildcat ;  but 
its  size  was  too  great  for  that  of  any  wildcat  this 
big  lynx  had  ever  known.  Wildcats  he  viewed  with 
utter  scorn.  For  three  years  he  had  ruled  all  Ring- 
waak  Hill ;  and  no  wildcat,  in  those  three  years,  had 
dared  to  hunt  upon  his  range.  But  this  newcomer, 
with  the  wildcat  smell,  seemed  about  as  big  as  three 
wildcats.  The  impression  of  its  foot  on  a  patch  of 
moist  mould  was  almost  as  large  as  that  of  the  lynx 
himself  —  and  the  lynx  well  knew  that  the  wildcats 
were  a  small-footed  tribe.  Like  most  of  the  hunting 
beasts,  he  was  well-schooled  in  the  lore  of  the  trails, 
and  all  the  signs  were  to  him  a  clear  speech.  From 


134        Ube  TKHatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

the  depth  and  definiteness  of  that  footprint,  he  felt 
that  both  weight  and  strength  had  stamped  it.  His 
long  claws  protruded  from  their  hidden  sheaths,  as 
he  pondered  the  significance  of  this  message  from 
the  unknown.  Was  the  stranger  a  deliberate  invader 
of  his  range,  or  a  mere  ignorant  trespasser?  And 
would  he  fight,  or  would  he  run?  The  angry  lynx 
was  determined  to  put  these  questions  to  the  test 
with  the  least  possible  delay. 

The  trail  was  comparatively  fresh,  and  the  lynx 
began  to  follow  it,  forgetful  of  his  hunger  and  of 
the  hunt  on  which  he  had  set  out.  He  moved  now 
more  warily  than  ever,  crouching  flat,  gliding 
smoothly  as  a  snake,  and  hoping  to  score  the  first 
point  against  his  rival  by  catching  him  unawares. 
So  noiselessly  did  he  go,  indeed,  that  a  weasel,  run- 
ning hard  upon  the  trail  of  a  rabbit,  actually  brushed 
against  him,  to  bound  away  in  a  paroxysm  of  fear 
and  rush  off  in  another  direction,  wondering  how  he 
had  escaped  those  lightning  claws.  In  fact  the 
lynx,  intent  only  upon  the  hunting  of  his  unknown 
foe,  was  almost  as  astonished  as  the  weasel,  and 
quite  unprepared  to  seize  the  sudden  opportunity 
for  a  meal.  He  eyed  the  vanishing  weasel  malignly 
for  a  moment,  then  resumed  his  stealthy  advance. 
A  white-footed  mouse,  sitting  up  daintily  at  the 


"Rivals  of  TRinQwaaft  135 

door  of  her  burrow,  fell  over  backwards,  and  nearly 
died  of  fright,  as  the  ghost-gray  shape  of  doom  sped 
up  and  passed.  But  the  lynx  had  just  then  no  mind 
for  mice,  and  never  saw  her. 

The  strange  trail,  for  some  hundreds  of  yards, 
kept  carefully  to  the  thickets  and  the  shadows.  In 
one  place  the  marks  of  a  scuffle,  with  a  heap  of 
speckled  feathers  and  a  pair  of  slim  claws,  showed 
that  the  intruder  had  captured  and  devoured  an  un- 
wary partridge  mothering  her  brood.  At  this  evi- 
dence of  poaching  on  his  preserves,  the  big  lynx's 
anger  swelled  hotly.  He  paused  to  sniff  at  the 
remnants,  and  then  stole  on  with  added  caution. 
The  blood  of  the  victim  was  not  yet  dry,  or  even 
clotted,  on  the  leaves. 

A  little  further  on,  the  trail  touched  the  foot  of 
a  clean-stemmed  young  maple.  Here  the  trespasser 
had  paused  to  stretch  himself,  setting  his  claws  deep 
into  the  bark.  These  claw-marks  the  lynx  appeared 
to  take  as  a  challenge  or  a  defiance.  Rearing  him- 
self against  the  tree,  he  stretched  himself  to  his 
utmost.  But  his  highest  scratch  was  two  inches 
below  the  mark  of  the  stranger.  This  still  further 
enraged  him.  Possibly,  it  might  also  have  daunted 
him  a  little  but  for  the  fact  that  his  own  claw-marks 


136        ftbe  TKflatcbers  of  tbe  Uratls 

were  both  deeper  and  wider  apart  than  those  of  his 
rival. 

From  the  clawed  tree,  the  trail  now  led  to  the 
very  edge  of  the  open  and  thence  to  the  top  of  an 
overhanging  rock,  white  and  sharply  chiseled  in 
the  moonlight.  The  lynx  was  just  about  to  climb 
the  rock,  when  there  beneath  it,  in  the  revealing 
radiance,  he  saw  a  sight  which  flattened  him  in  his 
tracks.  The  torn  carcass  of  a  young  doe  lay  a  few 
feet  from  the  base  of  the  rock;  and  on  top  of 
the  prey,  glaring  savage  challenge,  crouched  such  a 
wildcat  as  the  lynx  had  never  even  dreamed  of. 


n. 

A  few  days  before  this  night  of  the  white  full 
moon,  a  gigantic  wildcat  living  some  fifteen  miles 
from  Ringwaak  had  decided  to  change  his  hunt- 
ing-grounds. His  range,  over  which  he  had  ruled 
for  years,  was  a  dark,  thick-wooded  slope  overlook- 
ing the  brown  pools  and  loud  chutes  of  the  Guimic 
stream.  Here  he  had  prospered  hunting  with  con- 
tinual success,  and  enjoying  life  as  only  the  few 
overlords  among  the  wild  kindreds  can  hope  to 
enjoy  it.  He  had  nothing  to  fear,  as  long  as  he 
avoided  quarrel  with  a  bear  or  a  bull  moose.  And 


Ube  IRhmls  of  TRtngwaafc  137 

a  narrow  escape  when  young  had  taught  him  to 
shun  trap  and  snare,  and  everything  that  savoured 
of  the  hated  works  of  man. 

Now,  the  lumbermen  had  found  their  way  to 
his  shadowy  domain.  Loud  axe-strokes,  the  crash 
of  falling  trees,  the  hard  clank  of  ox-chains,  jarred 
the  solemn  stillness.  But  far  more  intolerable  to  the 
great  cat's  ears  was  the  noise  of  laughter  and  shout- 
ing, the  masterful  insolence  of  the  human  voice 
unabashed  in  the  face  of  the  solitude.  The  men  had 
built  a  camp  near  each  end  of  his  range.  No  re- 
treat was  safe  from  their  incursions.  And  they  had 
cut  down  the  great  pine-tree  whose  base  shielded 
the  entrance  of  his  favourite  lair.  All  through  the 
winter  the  angry  cat  had  spent  the  greater  portion 
of  his  time  slinking  aside  from  these  boisterous 
invaders  or  glaring  fierce  hate  upon  them  from  his 
densest  coverts.  Thus  occupied,  he  had  too  little 
time  for  his  hunting,  and,  moreover,  the  troubled 
game  had  become  shy.  His  temper  grew  worse 
and  worse  as  his  ribs  grew  more  and  more  obvious 
under  his  brownish,  speckled  fur.  Nevertheless, 
for  all  his  swelling  indignation,  he  had  as  yet  no 
thought  of  forsaking  his  range.  He  kept  expecting 
that  the  men  would  go  away. 

When  spring  came,  and  the  Guimic  roared  white 


138        Ube  "Cdatcbers  of  tbe  Uratls 

between  its  tortuous  shores,  some  of  the  loud- 
mouthed men  did  go  away.  Nevertheless,  the  big 
cat's  rage  waxed  hotter  than  ever.  Far  worse  than 
the  men  who  went  were  three  portable  steam  saw- 
mills which  came  in  their  place.  At  three  separate 
points  these  mills  were  set  up  —  and  straightway 
the  long,  intolerable  shriek  of  the  circulars  was  rip- 
ping the  air.  In  spite  of  himself,  the  amazed  cat 
screeched  in  unison  when  that  sound  first  smote 
his  ears.  He  slunk  away  and  hid  for  hours  in  his 
remotest  lair,  wondering  if  it  would  follow  him. 
When,  in  the  course  of  weeks,  he  grew  so 
far  accustomed  to  the  fiendish  sound  that  he  could 
go  about  his  hunting  within  half  a  mile  of  it,  he 
found  that  the  saws  had  worked  him  an  unspeakable 
injury.  They  had  fouled  his  beloved  fishing-pools 
with  sawdust. 

It  was  the  big  cat's  favoured  custom  to  spend 
hours  at  a  time  crouched  over  one  or  another  of 
these  pools,  waiting  for  a  chance  to  catch  a  trout. 
Where  an  overhanging  rock  or  a  jutting  root  came 
out  into  deep  water,  he  would  lie  as  motionless  as 
the  rock  or  log  itself,  his  round  face  bent  close 
down  to  the  glassy  surface,  his  bright  eyes  intently 
following  the  movements  of  the  big,  lazy  trout  in 
their  safe  deeps.  Once  in  a  long  while,  often  enough 


HIS  ROUND    FACE   BENT   CLOSE   DOWN    TO  THE  GLASSY  SURFACE  " 


Ube  "Rivals  of  1Rfn0waafc  139 

to  keep  his  interest  keen,  a  May-fly  or  a  fat  worm 
would  drop  close  past  his  nose  and  lie  kicking  on 
top  of  the  water.  Up  would  sail  a  big  trout,  open- 
jawed  to  engulf  the  morsel.  At  that  instant  the 
clutching  paw  of  the  watcher  would  strike  down 
and  around  more  swiftly  than  eye  could  follow  — 
and  the  next  instant  the  fish  would  be  flopping 
violently  among  the  underbrush  up  the  bank,  with 
leaves  and  twigs  clinging  to  its  fat,  silvery,  dappled 
sides.  The  sport  was  one  which  gave  the  big  wild- 
cat never-failing  delight;  and,  moreover,  there  was 
no  other  food  in  all  the  wilderness  quite  so  exquisite 
to  his  palate  as  a  plump  trout  from  the  ice-cool 
waters  of  the  Guimic.  When,  therefore,  he  found 
his  pools  covered,  all  day  long,  with  the  whitey- 
yellow  grains  of  sawdust,  which  prevented  the  trout 
feeding  at  the  surface  or  drove  them  in  disgust  from 
their  wonted  haunts,  he  realized  that  his  range  was 
ruined.  The  men  and  the  mills  were  the  con- 
querors, and  he  must  let  himself  be  driven  from  his 
well-beloved  Guimic  slopes.  But  first  he  would 
have  revenge.  His  caution  somewhat  undermined 
by  his  rage,  he  crept  much  nearer  to  the  main  camp 
than  he  had  hitherto  dared  to  go,  and  hid  himself 
in  a  low  tree  to  see  what  opportunity  fate  might 
fling  to  him. 


140        Ube  'Ddatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

Belonging  to  the  camp  was  a  brindle  dog,  a 
sturdy  and  noisy  mongrel  whose  barking  was  par- 
ticularly obnoxious  to  the  wildcat.  Of  a  surly  yet 
restless  temper,  the  mongrel  was  in  reality  by  no 
means  popular  in  the  camp,  and  would  not  have 
been  tolerated  there  but  for  the  fact  that  he  be- 
longed to  the  Boss.  In  the  wildcat's  eyes,  however, 
as  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  wild  kindreds,  he  seemed 
a  treasured  possession  of  the  menkind,  and  an 
especially  objectionable  expression  of  all  their  most 
objectionable  characteristics.  Moreover,  being 
four-footed  and  furred,  he  was  plainly  more  kin 
to  the  wild  creatures  than  to  man  —  and  therefore, 
to  the  wild  creature,  obviously  a  traitor  and  a 
renegade.  There  was  not  one  of  them  but  would 
have  taken  more  satisfaction  in  avenging  its  wrongs 
upon  the  loud-mouthed  mongrel  than  upon  one  of 
the  mongrel's  masters;  not  one  but  would  have 
counted  that  the  sweetest  and  completest  form  of 
vengeance. 

It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  the  big  cat 
quivered  with  eager  hate  when  he  saw  the  dog 
come  lazily  out  of  the  cook-house  and  wander  toward 
the  spring  —  which  lay  just  beyond  the  thick  tree! 
His  eyes  blazed  green,  his  fur  rose  slightly,  and  he 
set  his  claws  into  the  bark  to  gain  firm  foothold. 


Ube  "Rivals  ot  IRinQwaafc  141 

Confident  and  secure,  the  dog  approached  the  tree. 
On  the  way  he  jumped  savagely  at  a  chipmunk, 
which  dodged  in  time  and  whisked  into  its  hole. 
For  a  minute  or  two  the  dog  pawed  and  scratched 
at  the  hole,  trying  to  dig  the  little  fugitive  out. 
Then  he  gave  up  the  vain  task,  and  moved  on 
toward  the  spring. 

The  wildcat  gave  one  quick  glance  on  every  side. 
There  was  not  a  man  in  sight.  The  -cook  was  in 
the  cook-house,  rattling  tins.  Then  the  dog  came 
beneath  the  tree  —  and  stopped  to  sniff  at  the  wild- 
cat's track. 

There  was  a  sharp  scratch  in  the  tree  above  — 
and  in  the  next  instant  a  brown  furry  shape  dropped 
upon  him  noiselessly,  bearing  him  to  the  ground. 
This  thing  was  a  mass  of  teeth  and  claws  and  terrific 
muscles.  It  gave  one  sharp  screech  as  the  dog's 
yelping  howl  arose,  then  made  no  sound  but  a  spit- 
ting growl  as  it  bit  and  ripped.  From  the  first  the 
brindled  mongrel  had  no  ghost  of  a  chance ;  and  the 
struggle  was  over  in  three  minutes.  As  the  cook, 
astonished  by  the  sudden  uproar,  came  rushing  axe 
in  hand  from  his  shanty,  the  wildcat  sprang  away 
with  a  snarl  and  bounded  into  the  cover  of  the 
nearest  spruce  bushes.  He  was  none  the  worse 
save  for  a  deep  and  bleeding  gash  down  his  fore- 


i42        ube  Matcbers  of  tbe  trails 

shoulder,  where  his  victim  had  gained  a  moment's 
grip.  But  the  dog  was  so  cruelly  mauled  that  the 
woodsman  could  do  nothing  but  compassionately 
knock  him  on  the  head  with  the  axe  which  he  had 
brought  to  the  rescue. 

Savage  from  the  struggle,  and  elated  from  his 
vengeance,  the  wildcat  with  no  further  hesitation 
turned  his  back  upon  his  old  haunts,  crossed  the 
Guimic  by  great  leaps  from  rock  to  rock,  and  set 
southward  toward  the  wooded  slopes  and  valleys 
overlooked  by  the  ragged  crest  of  Ringwaak. 

The  indignant  exile,  journeying  so  boldly  to  con- 
front the  peril  of  which  he  had  no  suspicion  or 
forewarning,  belonged  to  a  species  confined  to  the 
forests  of  New  Brunswick  and  Nova  Scotia  or  the 
neighbourhood  of  their  boundaries.  He  was  a 
giant  cousin  of  the  common  wildcat,  and  known 
to  the  few  naturalists  who  had  succeeded  in  differ- 
entiating and  classifying  his  species  as  Lynx  Gigas. 
In  weight  and  stature  he  was,  if  anything,  more  than 
the  peer  of  his  other  and  more  distant  cousin,  the 
savage  Canada  lynx.  The  cook  of  the  camp,  in  tell- 
ing his  comrades  about  the  fate  of  the  dog,  spoke  of 
the  great  wildcat  as  a  "  catamount,"  to  distinguish 
him  from  the  common  cat  of  the  woods.  These  same 
woodsmen,  had  they  seen  the  lynx  who  ruled  on 


Ube  IRixmls  of  IRinawaaft  143 

Ringwaak  Hill,  would  have  called  him  a  "  lucerfee," 
while  any  Madawaska  Frenchman  in  their  com- 
pany would  have  dubbed  him  loup  cervier.  Either 
catamount  or  lucerfee  was  respectfully  regarded  by 
the  woodsmen. 

For  an  hour  the  great  cat  journeyed  on,  wary 
and  stealthy  from  habit  rather  than  intention,  as 
he  was  neither  hunting  for  prey  nor  avoiding 
enemies.  But  when  he  found  himself  in  strange 
woods  —  a  gloomy  cedar  swamp,  dotted  with 
dry  hardwood  knolls  like  islands  —  with  true 
cat  instinct  he  delayed  his  journey  to  look 
about  him  and  investigate.  Prowling  from 
side  to  side,  and  sniffing  and  peering,  he  presently 
found  something  that  he  was  not  looking  for.  In 
a  hollow  beneath  a  granite  boulder,  behind  the 
roots  of  two  gnarled  old  cedars,  he  came  upon  two 
glossy  black  bear  cubs,  fast  asleep.  The  mother 
was  nowhere  in  sight,  but  the  intruder  shrank  back 
with  an  abashed  and  guilty  air  and  ran  up  the 
nearest  tree.  Thence  he  made  his  way  from  branch 
to  branch,  and  did  not  return  to  the  ground  till 
he  had  put  three  or  four  hundred  yards  between 
him  and  the  den.  He  had  no  mind  to  bring  relent- 
less doom  upon  his  trail. 

Not  till  he  wa«  well  char  of  the  cedar  swamp 


144        cbe  lUatcbcrs  ot  tbe  trails 

did  the  catamount  remember  that  he  was  hungry. 
The  idea  of  being  suspected  of  an  interest  in  young 
bear's  meat  had  taken  away  his  appetite.  Now, 
however,  coming  to  a  series  of  wild  meadows,  he 
lingered  to  hunt  meadow-mice.  Among  the  roots 
of  the  long  grass  the  mice  had  innumerable  hidden 
runways,  through  which  they  could  travel  without 
danger  from  the  hawks  and  owls.  Crouching  close 
to  one  of  these  runways,  the  big  cat  would  listen 
till  a  squeak  or  a  faint  scurrying  noise  would  reveal 
the  passing  of  a  mouse.  Then  a  lightning  pounce, 
with  paws  much  wider  apart  than  in  his  ordinary 
hunting,  would  tear  away  the  frail  covering  of  the 
runway,  and  usually  show  the  victim  clutched  be- 
neath one  paw  or  the  other.  This  was  much 
quicker  as  well  as  craftier  hunting  than  the  more 
common  wildcat  method  of  lying  in  wait  for  an  hour 
at  the  door  of  a  runway.  Three  of  these  plump 
meadow-mice  made  the  traveller  a  comfortable  meal. 
Forgetting  his  wrongs,  he  stretched  himself  in  the 
full  sun  under  the  shelter  of  a  fallen  tree,  and 
slept  soundly  for  an  hour.  Once  only  he  awoke, 
when  his  ears  caught  the  beat  of  a  hawk's  wings 
winnowing  low  over  his  retreat.  He  opened  wide, 
fiercely  bright  eyes,  completely  alert  on  the  instant ; 
but  seeing  the  source  of  the  sound  he  was  asleep 


Ube  TRivals  of  1Rin0waafc  145 

again  before  the  hawk  had  crossed  the  little 
meadow. 

His  siesta  over,  the  exile  mounted  the  fallen  tree, 
dug  his  claws  deep  into  the  bark,  stretched  himself 
again  and  again,  yawned  prodigiously,  and  ended 
the  exercise  with  a  big,  rasping  miaow.  At  the 
sound  there  was  a  sudden  rustling  in  the  bushes 
behind  the  windfall.  Instantly  the  catamount 
sprang,  taking  the  risk  of  catching  a  porcupine  or 
a  skunk.  But  whatever  it  was  that  made  the  noise, 
it  had  vanished  in  time;  and  the  rash  hunter  re- 
turned to  his  perch  with  a  shamefaced  air. 

From  this  post  of  vantage  on  the  edge  of  the 
meadows  he  could  see  the  crest  of  old  Ringwaak 
dominating  the  forests  to  the  south ;  and  the  sight, 
for  some  unknown  reason,  drew  him.  Among  those 
bleak  rampikes  and  rocks  and  dark  coverts  he  might 
find  a  range  to  his  liking.  He  resumed  his  journey 
with  a  definiteness  of  purpose  which  kept  him  from 
squandering  time  on  the  chase.  Only  once  he 
halted,  and  that  was  when  the  cries  and  flutterings 
of  a  pair  of  excited  thrushes  caught  his  attention. 
He  saw  their  nest  in  a  low  tree  —  and  he  saw  a 
black  snake,  coiled  in  the  branches,  greedily  swallow- 
ing the  half-fledged  nestlings.  This  was  an  oppor- 
tunity which  he  could  not  afford  to  lose.  He  ran 


i4&        Ube  TKBatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

expertly  up  the  tree,  pounced  upon  the  snake,  and 
bit  through  its  back  bone  just  behind  the  head. 
The  strong,  black  coils  straightened  out  limply. 
Carrying  his  prize  between  his  jaws,  the  catamount 
descended  to  the  ground,  growling  and  jerking 
savagely  when  the  wriggling  length  got  tangled 
among  the  branches.  Quick  to  understand  the 
services  of  their  most  unexpected  ally,  the  desper- 
ate birds  returned  to  one  surviving  nestling,  and 
their  clamours  ceased.  Beneath  the  tree  the  exile 
hurriedly  devoured  a  few  mouthfuls  of  the  thick 
meat  of  the  back  just  behind  the  snake's  head, 
then  resumed  his  journey  toward  Ringwaak. 

It  was  close  upon  sunset  when  he  reached  the  first 
fringes  of  the  northward  slope  of  the  mountain. 
Here  his  reception  was  benign.  On  the  banks  of 
a  tiny  brook,  rosy-gold  in  the  flooding  afternoon 
light,  he  found  a  bed  of  wild  catnip.  Here  for  a  few 
minutes  he  rolled  in  ecstasy,  chewing  and  clawing 
at  the  aromatic  leaves,  all  four  paws  in  air,  and 
hoarsely  purring  his  delight.  When,  at  last,  he 
went  on  up  the  slope,  he  carried  with  him  through 
the  gathering  shadows  the  pungent,  sweet  aroma 
of  the  herb.  In  a  fierce  gaiety  of  spirit  he  would 
now  and  then  leap  into  the  air  to  strike  idly  at 
some  bird  flitting  high  above  his  reach.  Or  he 


Ube  TRivals  of  IRtnawaafe  147 

would  jump  and  clutch  kittenishly  with  both  paws 
at  a  fluttering,  overhanging  leaf,  or  pounce  upon 
an  imaginary  quiet  mouse  crouched  among  the 
leaves. 

About  twilight,  as  he  was  nearing  the  summit 
of  the  hill,  he  came  across  a  footprint  which  some- 
what startled  him  out  of  his  intoxication.  It  was 
a  footprint  not  unlike  his  own,  but  distinctly  larger. 
Being  an  old  sign,  there  was  no  scent  left  to  it  — 
but  its  size  was  puzzling  and  disquieting.  From 
this  on  he  went  warily,  not  knowing  when  he  might 
be  called  upon  to  measure  forces  with  some  re- 
^loubtable  possessor  of  the  range.  When  the  moon 
rose,  round  and  white  and  all-revealing,  and  threw 
sinister  shadows  from  rampike  and  rock,  he  kept  to 
the  densest  thickets  and  felt  oppressed  with  strange- 
ness. But  when  he  succeeded  in  surprising  a  hen 
partridge  hovering  over  her  brood,  with  the  blood 
warm  in  his  mouth  he  began  to  feel  at  home.  This 
fine  range  should  be  his,  whoever  might  contest  the 
sovereignty.  Coming  across  a  deer  trail  leading 
beneath  an  overhanging  rock,  he  climbed  the  rock 
and  crouched  in  ambush,  waiting  to  see  what  might 
come  by. 

For  an  hour  he  crouched  there,  motionless  as  the 
eternal  granite  itself,  while  the  moon  climbed  and 


i4s       Ube  THflatcbers  ot  tbe  Grails 

whitened,  and  the  shadows  of  the  rampikes  changed, 
and  the  breathless  enchantment  deepened  over  Ring- 
waak.  At  long  intervals  there  would  be  a  faint 
rustling  in  some  near-by  clump  of  juniper,  or  a 
squeak  and  a  brief  scuffle  in  the  thickets;  or,  on 
wings  as  soundless  as  sleep,  a  great  owl  would  pass 
by,  to  drop  sharply  behind  a  rock,  or  sail  away  like 
a  ghost  among  the  rampikes.  But  to  none  of  these 
furtive  happenings  did  the  watcher  on  the  rock 
pay  any  heed.  He  was  waiting  for  what  might 
come  upon  the  trail. 

At  last,  it  came.  Stepping  daintily  on  her  small, 
fine  hoofs,  her  large  eyes  glancing  timorously  in 
every  direction,  a  little  yearling  doe  emerged  from 
the  bushes  arid  started  to  cross  the  patch  of  brilliant 
light.  The  strange,  upright  pupils  of  the  cata- 
mount's eyes  narrowed  and  dilated  at  the  sight, 
and  his  muscles  quivered  to  sudden  tension.  The 
young  doe  came  beneath  the  rock.  The  cat  sprang, 
unerring,  irresistible;  and  the  next  moment  she  lay 
kicking  helplessly  beneath  him,  his  fangs  buried  in 
her  velvet  throat. 

This  was  noble  prey;  and  the  giant  cat,  his  mis- 
givings all  forgotten,  drank  till  his  long  thirst  was 
satiated.  His  jaws  dripping,  he  lifted  his  round, 
fierce  face,  and  gazed  out  and  away  across  tbe 


SOMETHING    MADE    HIM    TURN    HIS    HEAD    QUICKLY." 


TTbe  IRfvals  of  TRtngwaafe  149 

moonlit  slopes  below  him  toward  his  ancient  range 
beyond  the  Guimic.  While  he  gazed,  triumphing, 
something  made  him  turn  his  head  quickly  and  eye 
the  spruce  thicket  behind  him. 


m. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  old  lynx,  master 
of  Ringwaak,  coming  suddenly  out  into  the  moon- 
light, saw  the  grim  apparition  beneath  the  rock, 
and  flattened  to  the  ground. 

Through  long,  momentous,  pregnant  seconds  the 
two  formidable  and  matched  antagonists  scrutinized 
each  other,  the  lynx  close  crouched,  ready  to  launch 
himself  like  a  thunderbolt,  the  catamount  half  risen, 
his  back  bowed,  one  paw  of  obstinate  possession 
clutching  the  head  of  his  prey.  In  the  eyes  of  each, 
as  they  measured  each  other's  powers  and  sought 
for  an  advantage,  flamed  hate,  defiance,  courage, 
and  savage  question. 

Seen  thus  near  together,  catamount  by  lucerfee, 
they  were  obviously  akin,  yet  markedly  different. 
The  cat  was  heavier  in  the  body,  outweighing  his 
rival  by  perhaps  not  far  from  ten  pounds,  but  with 
shorter  and  more  gracefully  shaped  legs,  and  smaller 
feet.  His  head  was  more  arched,  seeming  to  in- 


iso        Ube  Matcbers  ot  tbe  trails 

dicate  a  greater  intelligence,  and  his  flaming  eyes 
were  set  wider  apart;  but  his  mouth  was  smaller, 
his  fangs  less  long  and  punishing.  His  fur  was  of 
a  browner,  warmer  hue  than  that  of  the  lynx, 
whose  gray  had  a  half-invisible  ghostliness  in  the 
moonlight.  The  tails  of  both  were  ridiculously 
short,  not  six  inches  in  length,  but  that  of  the  cata- 
mount was  straight  and  stiff,  while  that  of  the  lucer- 
fee  had  a  curious  upward  twist  that  somehow 
mocked  the  contortions  of  his  huge  and  overlong 
hind  legs.  The  eyes  of  the  lynx,  under  his  flatter 
forehead,  were  the  more  piercing,  the  less  bla- 
zing. Altogether  the  great  wildcat  was  the  more 
beautiful  of  the  two  beasts,  the  more  intelligent, 
the  more  adaptable  and  resourceful.  But  the  lynx, 
with  his  big,  uncouth,  hind  quarters,  and  great  legs 
gathered  under  him,  and  exaggerated  paws,  looked 
to  be  the  more  formidable  fighting  machine. 

Thus,  unstirring,  they  eyed  each  other.  Then 
with  a  strident  screech  that  seemed  to  tear  the  spell 
of  the  night  to  tatters,  the  gray  body  of  the  lynx 
shot  through  the  air.  It  landed,  not  upon  the 
catamount,  but  squarely  upon  the  carcass  of  the 
doe,  where,  a  fraction  of  a  second  before,  the  cata- 
mount 'had  stood.  The  wary  intruder  had  not 
waited  to  endure  the  full  shock  of  that  charge,  but 


"Rivals  of  IRinawaaft  151 

lightly  as  a  puff  of  down  had  leaped  aside.  The 
next  instant  he  had  pounced,  with  a  yowl  of  defiance, 
straight  for  the  lynx's  neck. 

Lightning  quick  though  he  was,  the  lynx  re- 
covered in  time  to  meet  the  attack  with  deadly 
counter-stroke  of  bared  claws,  parrying  like  a  skilled 
boxer.  In  this  forearm  work  the  catamount,  lighter 
of  paw  and  talon,  suffered  the  more ;  and  being  quick 
to  perceive  his  adversary's  advantage,  he  sought 
to  force  a  close  grapple.  This  the  lynx  at  first 
avoided,  rending  and  punishing  frightfully  as  he 
gave  ground;  while  the  solemn  height  of  old  Ring- 
waak  was  shocked  by  a  clamour  of  spitting  and 
raucous  yowling  that  sent  every  sleepy  bird  flutter- 
ing in  terror  from  its  nest. 

Suddenly,  perceiving  that  the  lynx  was  back- 
ing dangerously  close  to  the  face  of  the  rock,  the 
great  cat  sprang,  took  a  frightful,  ripping  buffet 
across  the  face,  broke  down  his  foe's  guard  and 
bore  him  to  the  ground  by  sheer  weight.  Here,  in 
this  close  embrace,  the  hinder  claws  of  both  came 
into  play  with  hideous  effect.  The  clamour  died 
down  to  a  tense,  desperate,  gasping  snarl;  for  now 
the  verdict  of  life  or  death  was  a  matter  of  moments. 
But  in  this  fearful  and  final  test,  when  there  was 
no  more  room  for  fencing,  no  more  time  for  strategy, 


is2        Ube  Matchers  of  tbe  tTraiis 

the  more  powerful  hind  legs  and  longer,  more 
eviscerating  claws  of  the  lynx  had  the  decisive  ad- 
vantage. Though  borne  down,  and  apparently 
getting  the  worst  of  the  fight,  the  master  of  Ring- 
waak  was  in  reality  ripping  his  enemy  to  pieces 
from  beneath.  All  at  once  the  latter  sprang  away 
with  a  scream,  stood  for  a  second  erect  and  rigid, 
then  sank  limp  beside  the  torn  carcass  of  the  doe. 
The  lynx,  badly  torn  and  bitten,  but  with  no  fatal 
injury,  pounced  upon  the  unresisting  body  of  the 
catamount  and  mauled  it  till  well  assured  of  the 
completeness  of  his  victory.  Then,  heedless  of  his 
wounds,  he  mounted  the  carcass  of  the  doe,  lifted 
his  head  high,  and  screeched  his  challenge  across 
the  night.  No  answer  coming,  he  tore  a  mouth- 
ful of  the  meat  to  emphasize  possession,  stepped 
down,  and  crept  off  to  nurse  his  hurts  in  some 
dark  retreat;  for  not  easy  had  been  the  task  of  de- 
fending his  lordship.  When  all  was  still  once  more 
on  Ringwaak,  presently  descended  again  the  en- 
chantment of  the  mystic  light.  And  under  its  trans- 
forming touch  even  the  torn  bodies  lying  before  the 
bright  face  of  the  rock  lost  their  hideousness,  be- 
coming remote,  and  unsubstantial  and  visionary. 


Decop 


ZTfoe 

above  the  flat-spread  earth,  their 
strong  wings  driving  them  at  tremendous 
speed  through  the  thin,  cold  air  of  dawn, 
the  wild-goose  flock  journeyed  north.  In  the 
shape  of  an  irregular  V  they  journeyed,  an  old 
gander,  wise  and  powerful,  at  the  apex  of  the 
aerial  array.  As  they  flew,  their  long  necks  stretched 
straight  out,  the  living  air  thrilled  like  a  string 
beneath  their  wing-beats.  From  their  throats 
came  a  throbbing  chorus,  resonant,  far-carrying, 
mysterious,  —  honka,  honka,  honka,  honk,  honka, 
honk.  It  seemed  to  be  the  proper  utterance  of  alti- 
tude and  space. 

The  flight  was  as  true  as  if  set  by  a  compass; 
but  the  longer  limb  of  the  V  would  curve  and 
swerve  sinuously  from  time  to  time  as  the  weaker 
or  less  experienced  members  of  the  flock  wavered 
in  their  alignment.  Flat,  low-lying  forests,  and 
lonely  meres,  and  rough,  isolated  farms  sped  past 
below  the  rushing  voyagers,  —  then  a  black  head- 
'55 


156       TTbe  THHatcbers  of  tbc  Uratls 

land,  and  then  a  wide,  shallow  arm  of  the  sea. 
For  a  few  minutes  the  glimmer  of  pale,  crawling 
tides  was  everywhere  beneath  them,  —  then  league 
on  league  of  gray-green,  sedgy  marsh,  interlaced 
with  little  pools  and  lanes  of  bright  water,  and 
crisscrossed  with  ranks  of  bulrush.  The  leader 
of  the  flock  now  stretched  his  dark  head  downward, 
slowing  the  beat  of  his  wings,  and  the  disciplined 
array  started  on  a  long  decline  toward  earth. 
From  its  great  height  the  flock  covered  nearly  a 
mile  of  advance  before  coming  within  a  hundred 
yards  of  the  pale  green  levels;  and  all  through 
the  gradual  descent  the  confusion  of  marsh,  and 
pool,  and  winding  creek,  seemed  to  float  up  gently 
to  meet  the  long-absent  wanderers.  At  length, 
just  over  a  shallow,  spacious,  grassy  mere,  and 
some  thirty  feet  above  its  surface,  the  leader  de- 
cided to  alight.  It  was  an  old  and  favoured  feed- 
ing-ground, where  the  mud  was  full  of  tender 
shoots  and  tiny  creatures  of  the  ooze.  The  wings 
of  the  flock,  as  if  on  signal,  turned  out  and  up- 
ward, showing  a  flash  of  paler  colour  as  they 
checked  the  still  considerable  speed  of  the  flight. 
In  that  pause,  just  before  the  splash  of  alight- 
ing, from  a  thick  cover  of  sedge  across  the  pool 
came  two  sharp  spurts  of  flame,  one  after  the  other, 


5>ecop  157 

followed  by  two  thunderous  reports,  so  close  together 
as  to  seem  almost  like  one.  Turning  straight  over, 
the  leader  fell  upon  the  water  with  a  heavy  splash; 
and  immediately  after  him  dropped  his  second  in 
leadership,  the  strong  young  gander  who  flew  next 
him  on  the  longer  limb  of  the  V.  The  flock, 
altogether  demoralized,  huddled  together  for  a  few 
seconds  with  loud  cries;  then  rose  and  flapped  off 
seaward.  Before  the  hunter  in  the  sedge  could  get 
fresh  cartridges  into  his  gun,  the  diminished  flock 
was  out  of  range,  making  desperate  haste  to  safer 
feeding-grounds. 

Of  the  two  birds  thus  suddenly  smitten  by  fate, 
the  younger,  shot  through  the  heart,  lay  motion- 
less where  he  had  dropped,  a  sprawl  of  black  and 
white,  and  ashen  feathers  tumbled  by  the  little 
ripples  of  the  pool.  But  the  older  bird  was  merely 
winged.  Recovering  himself  almost  instantly  from 
the  shock  of  the  wound  and  the  fall,  he  made  one 
pathetically  futile  effort  to  rise  again,  then  started 
swimming  down  the  pond,  trailing  his  shattered 
wing  behind  him  and  straining  his  gaze  toward  the 
departing  flock. 

Immediately  after  the  two  shots,  out  from  the 
shelter  of  the  rushes  had  sprung  a  large,  curly- 
coated,  brown  retriever.  With  a  yelp  of  excite- 


iS8        ube  TOnatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

ment  he  had  dashed  into  the  water  and  dragged 
ashore  the  body  of  the  dead  bird.  Now  the  hunter, 
standing  up  and  stretching  his  legs  as  if  cramped 
from  a  long  lying-in-wait,  started  on  a  sharp  run 
down  the  wet  shore  of  the  pond,  whistling  the 
retriever  after  him.  He  had  noted  the  splendid 
stature  of  the  wounded  bird,  and  wanted  to  cap- 
ture him  alive. 

Not  without  cause  had  the  great  gander  achieved 
the  leadership  of  the  flock,  for  he  possessed  not 
only  strength  but  intelligence.  When  he  saw  that 
his  trailing  wing  so  hampered  his  swimming  that 
he  would  presently  be  overtaken,  he  turned  and 
darted  into  the  sedges  of  the  opposite  shore, 
trusting  to  the  difficulties  of  the  swamp  to  pro- 
tect him.  He  did  not  know  that  the  big  brown 
retriever  was  almost  amphibious,  and  more  cun- 
ning than  himself. 

The  hunter  stopped,  and  pointed  to  the  spot  of 
waving  reeds  where  the  bird  had  disappeared. 

"  Fetch  him,  Pete !  "  he  commanded,  —  "  But 
gently,  boy,  ge-e-ently ! "  And  the  wise  old  dog 
understood,  either  from  the  words  or  from  the  tone 
in  which  they  were  uttered,  that  this  was  to  be 
a  bloodless  capture.  Barking  joyously,  he  tore 
around  the  pond  to  the  place  where  the  gander  had 


Ubc  Decos  159 

vanished,  and  dashed  splashing  into  the  reeds.  A 
few  seconds  later  a  tumult  arose,  the  reeds  were 
beaten  down,  and  the  dog  reappeared,  dragging 
his  prize  by  the  uninjured  wing. 

The  great  bird,  powerful  and  dauntless,  made  a 
gallant  fight;  but  he  was  hopelessly  handicapped. 
His  most  formidable  weapons  were  the  bony  elbows 
of  his  strong,  untiring  wings;  and  of  both  these 
he  was  now  deprived,  one  wing  being  shattered, 
and  the  other  in  the  grip  of  the  enemy's  jaws. 
He  struck  and  bit  and  worried  with  his  hard  bill; 
but  the  dog,  half-shutting  his  eyes,  took  the  maul- 
ing grimly  and  dragged  his  troublesome  captive 
into  the  water. 

Here,  however,  he  made  a  mistake.  The  great 
bird  was  a  mighty  swimmer,  and  indomitable; 
and  in  half  a  minute  his  captor  was  glad  to  drag 
him  to  land  again.  Then  the  hunter  arrived  on 
the  scene;  and  the  dog,  gladly  relinquishing  so  un- 
manageable a  prisoner,  sat  back  on  his  haunches,  with 
tongue  hanging  out,  to  see  what  his  master  would 
do.  The  dauntless  gander  bit  furiously,  and 
pounded  with  his  one  undamaged  wing,  and 
earned  his  adversary's  unstinted  commendation : 
but  in  a  minute  or  two  he  found  himself  help- 
less, swathed  like  a  cocoon  in  a  stout,  woollen 


160        ube  Watcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

hunting-coat,  and  his  head  ignominiously  bagged 
in  one  of  the  sleeves.  In  this  fashion,  his  heart 
bursting  with  fear  and  wrath,  his  broken  wing  one 
hot  throb  of  anguish,  he  was  carried  under  the 
hunter's  arm  for  what  seemed  to  him  a  whole 
night  long.  Then  he  was  set  free  in  a  little  open 
pen  in  a  garden,  beside  a  green-shuttered,  wide- 
eaved,  white  cottage  on  the  uplands. 

The  hunter  was  so  kind  to  his  captive,  so  as- 
siduous in  his  care,  that  the  wild  bird  presently 
grew  almost  indifferent  to  his  approach,  and  ceased 
to  strike  at  him  savagely  with  his  free  wing  when- 
ever he  entered  the  pen.  The  other  wing,  well 
cleaned  and  salved,  and  bound  in  cunning  splints, 
healed  rapidly,  and  caused  no  pain  save  when  its 
owner  strove  to  flap  it,  —  which  he  did,  with  long, 
desolate,  appealing  cries,  whenever  a  wild-goose 
flock  went  honking  musically  across  the  evening 
or  morning  sky. 

At  length,  while  the  injured  wing  was  still  in 
bandage,  the  hunter  took  the  bird  in  spite  of  all 
protest,  tucked  the  long  neck  and  troublesome  head 
under  his  arm,  and  attached  to  one  leg  a  little 
leather  wrapping  and  a  long,  strong  cord.  Then 
he  opened  the  pen.  The  big  gander  strode  forth, 
with  more  haste  than  quite  comported  with  his 


JDecop  161 

dignity.  Straight  down  the  slope  he  started,  seek- 
ing the  wide  marshes  where  he  expected  to  find 
his  flock.  Then  suddenly  he  came  to  the  end  of 
his  cord  with  a  jerk,  and  fell  forward  on  his 
breast  and  bill  with  a  honk  of  surprise.  He  was 
not  free,  after  all,  and  two  or  three  violent  strug- 
gles convinced  him  of  the  fact.  As  soon  as  he 
realized  himself  still  a  prisoner,  his  keen,  dark  eyes 
turned  a  look  of  reproach  upon  his  jailer,  who  was 
holding  the  other  end  of  the  cord  and  watching 
him  intently.  Then  he  slackened  on  the  tether,  and 
fell  to  cropping  the  short  grass  of  the  lawn  as  if 
being  tied  by  the  leg  was  an  ancient  experience. 
It  was  a  great  thing,  after  all,  to  be  out  of  the 
pen. 

"  He'll  do !  "  said  the  man  to  himself  with  satis- 
faction, as  he  fixed  the  tether  to  a  young  apple-tree. 
When  he  had  gone  into  the  house  the  bird  stopped 
feeding,  turned  first  one  eye  and  then  the  other 
toward  the  empty  sky,  stretched  his  long,  black 
neck  and  clean  white  throat,  and  sent  out  across 
the  green  spaces  his  appealing  and  lonely  cry,  — 
honka,  honka,  honka,  ho-onka? 

Very  early  the  following  morning,  before  the 
stars  had  begun  to  pale  at  the  approach  of 
dawn,  the  captive  was  once  more  wrapped  up  se- 


TKHatcbers  of  tbe  "Grails 

curely  and  taken  on  a  blind  journey.  When  he 
was  uncovered,  and  anxiously  stretched  out  his 
head,  he  found  himself  again  on  the  edge  of  that 
shallow  pool  in  the  marshes  where  fate  had  over- 
taken him.  The  brown  retriever  was  sitting  on 
his  haunches  close  by,  regarding  him  amicably. 
The  man  was  fastening  one  end  of  the  tether  to 
a  stake  at  the  water's  edge,  and  from  the  east 
a  grayness  touched  with  chill  pink  was  spreading 
over  the  sky. 

A  moment  later  the  surprised  bird  found  him- 
self standing  among  the  wet  sedge,  close  to  the 
water.  With  a  nervous  glance  at  the  dog,  whom 
he  shrank  from  with  more  dread  than  from  the 
man,  he  launched  himself  into  the  water  and  swam 
straight  out  from  shore. 

This  time,  surely,  he  was  free.  Next  to  the 
spacious  solitudes  of  the  air,  this  was  his  proper 
element.  How  exquisite  to  the  thin  webs  of  his 
feet  felt  the  coolness  of  it,  as  he  pushed  against 
it  with  strong  strokes!  How  it  curled  away  luxu- 
riously from  his  gray,  firm- feathered  breast! 
This  was  to  live  again,  after  the  pain  and  humili- 
ation of  his  captivity!  And  yonder,  far  down  the 
mere,  and  past  those  tall  reeds  standing  shadowy 
in  the  pallor,  surely  he  would  find  the  flock  which 


2>ecos  163 

had  moved  on  without  him!  Then,  all  at  once,  it 
was  as  if  something  had  clutched  him  by  the  leg. 
With  a  startled  cry  and  a  splash  he  tipped  forward, 
and  his  glad  journey  came  to  an  end.  He  had 
reached  the  limit  of  his  tether. 

Remembering  his  experience  of  the  day  before, 
he  made  no  vain  struggle,  but  floated  quietly  for 
a  minute  or  two,  stricken  with  his  disappointment. 
The  man  and  the  big  brown  dog  had  disappeared ; 
but  presently  his  keen  and  sagacious  eyes  detected 
them  both,  lying  motionless  in  a  thicket  of  reeds. 
Having  stared  at  them  indignantly  for  a  few 
moments,  swimming  slowly  to  and  fro  and  trans- 
fixing them  with  first  one  eye  and  then  the  other, 
he  ducked  his  head  and  began  biting  savagely  at 
the  leathern  wrapping  on  his  leg.  But  the  use- 
lessness  of  this  soon  appearing  to  him,  he  gave  it 
up,  and  sought  to  ease  his  despair  by  diving  and 
guttering  with  his  bill  among  the  roots  of  the  oozy 
bottom.  In  this  absorbing  occupation  he  so  far 
forgot  his  miseries  that  all  at  once  he  tried  to  lift 
himself  on  the  water,  flap  his  wings,  and  sound 
his  trumpet-call.  One  wing  did  give  a  frantic 
flap.  The  other  surged  fiercely  against  its  ban- 
dages, sending  a  throb  of  anguish  through  his 
frame,  and  the  trumpet-call  broke  in  a  single  hoarse 


164        tlbe  TKHatcber8  of  tbe  {Trails 

honk.  After  this  he  floated  for  a  long  time  in 
dejection,  while  the  level  rays  of  sunrise  stole 
mysteriously  across  the  pale  marshes. 

The  hunter,  tired  of  his  long  stillness  in  the 
sedge,  was  just  about  to  stand  up  and  stretch 
himself,  when  from  far  down  the  sky  to  south- 
ward came  a  hollow  and  confused  clamour.  The 
hunter  heard  it,  and  the  brown  retriever  heard  it; 
and  both  crouched  low  behind  their  shelter,  as 
motionless  as  stones.  The  wild  captive,  floating 
at  the  end  of  his  tether  out  on  the  pink-and-gold 
mirror  of  the  pond,  also  heard  it,  and  stretched 
his  fine  black  head  aloft,  rigid  with  expectancy. 
Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  thrilling  voices. 
Blacker  and  larger  against  the  sky  grew  the  jour- 
neying V  as  it  approached  the  marshes.  The 
heart  of  the  captive  swelled  with  hope  and  long- 
ing. Not  his  own  flock,  indeed,  but  his  own  kin, 
these  free  and  tireless  voyagers  coming  confidently 
to  safe  feeding-grounds !  Forgetting  everything  but 
his  great  loneliness,  he  raised  himself  as  high  as 
he  could  upon  the  water,  one  wing  partly  outspread, 
and  called,  and  called  again,  summoning  the  trav- 
ellers to  alight. 

Hearing  this  kindly  summons,  the  flock  dipped 
at  once  and  came  slanting  steeply  toward  earth. 


Ube  S>eco£  165 

In  their  haste  they  broke  rank,  descending  more 
abruptly  than  usual,  their  customary  caution  quite 
laid  aside  when  they  saw  one  of  their  own  kind 
waiting  to  receive  them.  The  joyous  captive 
ducked  and  bowed  his  head  in  greeting.  In 
another  moment  the  whole  flock  would  have  settled 
clamorously  about  him,  and  he  would  have  been 
happy,  —  but  before  that  moment  came  there  came 
instead  two  bursts  of  flame  and  thunder  from  the 
covert  of  sedge.  And  instead  of  the  descending 
flock,  there  fell  beside  the  captive  two  heavy,  flut- 
tering gray-and-blac1:  shapes,  which  beat  the  water 
feebly  and  then  lay  still. 

As  the  betrayed  and  panic-stricken  flock  flapped 
away  in  confusion  the  captive  tugged  frantically 
at  his  tether,  crying  shrilly  and  struggling  to 
follow  them.  In  his  desperation  he  paid  no  heed 
.  whatever  as  the  big,  brown  dog  dashed  out  and 
triumphantly  dragged  the  bodies  of  the  two  vic- 
tims to  land.  He  was  horrified  by  the  terrible 
noise,  and  the  killing;  but  his  attention  was 
chiefly  engrossed  by  the  fact  that  the  flock  had 
been  frightened  away,  leaving  him  to  his  loneliness. 
For  several  minutes  he  continued  his  cries,  till  the 
flock  was  far  out  of  sight.  Then  silence  fell  again 
on  the  marshes. 


166        Ube  Matcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  much  the  same  thing 
happened  again.  Another  flock,  passing  over- 
head, came  clamouring  fearlessly  down  in  response 
to  the  captive's  calls,  met  the  doom  that  blazed 
from  the  reed-covert,  and  left  two  of  its  members 
gasping  on  the  surface  of  the  pond.  This  time, 
however,  the  despair  of  the  captive  was  less  loud 
and  less  prolonged.  As  leader,  for  two  seasons, 
of  his  own  flock,  he  had  necessarily  learned  cer- 
tain simple  processes  of  deduction.  These  pitiful 
tragedies  through  which  he  had  just  passed  were 
quite  sufficient  to  convince  him  that  this  particular 
shallow  pond,  though  so  good  a  feeding-ground, 
was  a  fatal  place  for  the  voyaging  geese  to  visit. 
Further,  in  a  dim  way,  his  shocked  and  shudder- 
ing brain  began  to  realize  that  his  own  calling 
was  the  cause  of  the  horrors.  If  he  called,  the 
flocks  came  fearlessly,  content  with  his  pledge  that 
all  was  well.  Upon  their  coming,  the  fire,  and 
dreadful  thunders,  and  inexplicable  death  burst 
forth  from  the  sedge;  and  then  the  great  brown 
dog  appeared  to  drag  his  prey  to  shore.  The 
whole  mischief,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  was  the  work 
of  the  dog;  and  it  did  not  occur  to  him  that 
the  man,  who  seemed  fairly  well-disposed  and  all- 
powerful,  had  anything  whatever  to  do  with  it. 


tlbe  2>ecos  167 

This  idea  gradually  grew  clear  in  the  captive's 
brain,  as  he  swam,  very  slowly,  to  and  fro  upon 
the  brightening  water.  In  a  vague  way  his  heart 
determined  that  he  would  lure  no  more  of  his 
kindred  to  their  doom.  And  when,  a  little  later, 
a  third  flock  came  trumpeting  up  the  sky,  the 
captive  eyed  their  approach  in  despairing  silence. 
As  the  beating  wings  drew  near,  stooping 
toward  the  silvery  pools  and  pale  green  levels,  the 
captive  swam  back  and  forward  in  wild  excite- 
ment, aching  to  give  the  call  and  ease  his  loneliness. 
The  flock,  perceiving  him,  drew  nearer;  but  in 
his  excited  movements  and  his  silence  its  leader 
discerned  a  peril.  There  was  something  sinister 
and  incomprehensible  in  this  splendidly  marked 
bird  who  refused  to  summon  them  to  his  feeding- 
ground,  and  kept  swimming  wildly  back  and  forth. 
Keeping  well  beyond  gunshot,  they  circled  around 
this  smiling  but  too  mysterious  water,  to  alight 
with  great  clamour  and  splashing  in  a  little, 
sheltered  mere  some  two  or  three  hundred  yards 
farther  inland.  The  hunter,  crouching  moveless 
and  expectant  in  his  ambush,  muttered  an  exclama- 
tion of  surprise,  and  wondered  if  it  could  be 
possible  that  his  incomparable  decoy  had  reached 


i68        tTbe  Matcbers  of  tbe  tTraite 

an  understanding  of  the  treacherous  game  and  re- 
fused to  play  it. 

"  There's  no  smarter  bird  that  flies  than  a  wild 
gander ! "  he  mused,  watching  the  great  bird 
curiously  and  with  a  certain  sympathy.  "  We'll 
see  what  happens  when  another  flock  comes  by !  " 

Meanwhile  the  new  arrivals,  over  in  the  unseen 
pond  behind  the  rushes,  were  feeding  and  bathing 
with  a  happy  clamour.  They  little  dreamed  that 
a  pot-hunting  rustic  from  the  village  on  the  hills, 
flat  on  his  belly  in  the  oozy  grass,  was  noiselessly 
worming  his  way  toward  them.  Armed  with  an 
old,  single-barrel  duck  gun,  the  height  of  his 
ambition  was  to  get  a  safe  and  easy  shot  at  the 
feeding  birds.  No  delicate  wing-shooting  for 
him.  What  he  wanted  was  the  most  he  could  get 
for  his  powder  and  lead.  Big  and  clumsy  though 
he  was,  his  progress  through  the  grass  was  as 
stealthy  as  that  of  a  mink. 

It  chanced  that  the  path  of  the  pot-hunter  took 
him  close  past  the  further  shore  of  the  pond  where 
the  captive  was  straining  at  his  tether  and  eating 
his  heart  out  in  determined  silence.  The  home- 
sick, desolate  bird  would  swim  around  and  around 
for  a  few  minutes,  as^a  caged  panther  circles  his 
bounds,  then  stop  and  listen  longingly  to  the 


"  HE  LIFTED  UP  HIS  VOICE  IN  A  SUDDEN  ABRUPT  «  HONK,  HONK  !  '  " 


Ube  S>ecot>  169 

happy  noise  from  over  beyond  the  reed- fringes. 
At  last,  goaded  into  a  moment  of  forgetfulness 
by  the  urge  of  his  desire,  he  lifted  up  his  voice 
in  a  sudden  abrupt  honk,  honk! 

The  pot-hunter  stopped  his  crawling  and  peered 
delightedly  through  the  sedgy  stems.  Here  was 
a  prize  ready  to  his  hand.  The  flock  was  still 
far  off,  and  might  easily  take  alarm  before  he 
could  get  within  range.  But  this  stray  bird,  a 
beauty  too,  was  so  near  that  he  could  not  miss. 
Stealthily  he  brought  his  heavy  weapon  to  the 
shoulder;  and  slowly,  carefully,  he  took  aim. 

The  report  of  the  big  duck  gun  was  like  thun- 
der, and  roused  the  marshes.  In  a  fury  the  hunter 
sprang  from  his  ambush  across  the  mere,  and  ran 
down  to  the  water's  edge,  threatening  vengeance 
on  the  lout  who  would  fire  on  a  decoy.  The  brown 
retriever,  wild  with  excitement,  dashed  barking 
up  and  down  the  shore,  not  knowing  just  what 
he  ought  to  do.  Sandpipers  went  whistling  in 
every  direction.  And  the  foraging  flock,  startled 
from  their  security,  screamed  wildly  and  flapped 
off  unhurt  to  remoter  regions  of  the  marsh.  But 
the  lonely  captive,  the  wise  old  gander  who  had 
piloted  his  clan  through  so  many  hundred  leagues 
of  trackless  air,  lay  limp  and  mangled  on  the 


i7o        ube  TKflatcbers  of  tbe  ZTrails 

stained  water,  torn  by  the  heavy  charge  of  the 
duck  gun.  The  whimsical  fate  that  seems  to  play 
with  the  destinies  of  the  wild  kindreds  had  chosen 
to  let  him  save  one  flock  from  the  slaughterer, 
and  expiate  his  blameless  treason. 


Haugb  in  tbe  2>arfc 


laugh  fn  tbe  Dark 

HOUGH  the  darkness  under  the  great 
trees  was  impenetrable,  it  gave  an  im- 
pression of  transparency  which  invited 
the  eyes  to  strain  and  peer,  as  if  vision  might  be 
expected  to  reward  an  adequate  effort.  It  was  that 
liquid  darkness  which  means  not  mist,  but  the  utter 
absence  of  light  on  a  clear  air;  and  it  was  filled 
with  elusive  yet  almost  illuminating  forest  scents. 
To  the  keen  nostrils  of  the  man  who  was  silently 
mounting  the  trail,  it  seemed  as  if  these  wild  aromas 
almost  enabled  him  to  veritably  see  the  trees  which 
towered  all  about  him,  so  clearly  did  they  differ- 
entiate to  him  their  several  species  as  he  passed, 
—  the  hemlock,  in  particular,  and  the  birch,  the 
black  poplar,  and  the  aromatic  balsam-fir.  But  his 
eyes,  though  trained  to  the  open,  could  in  truth 
detect  nothing  whatever,  except  now  and  then  a 
darting  gleam  which  might  come  from  a  wet  leaf, 
or  from  the  gaze  of  a  watching  wood-mouse,  or 
173 


174        Ube  THHatcbers  of  tbe  tTratls 

merely  from  the  stirrings  of  the  blood  within  his 
own  brain. 

The  man  was  on  his  way  up  from  the  lake,  by 
an  old  trail  long  ago  familiar  to  his  feet,  to  make 
camp  for  the  night  in  a  deserted  lumber  shanty 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  back  from  .the  water. 
Over  the  dimly  glimmering,  windless  water,  under 
a  cloudless  sky,  he  had  groped  his  way  in  his  canoe 
to  the  old  landing.  Turning  the  canoe  over  his 
supplies  for  protection  in  case  of  rain,  he  had  set 
out  for  the  lumber  shanty  with  only  a  blanket  and 
a  couple  of  hardtack.  His  rifle  he  had  indiffer- 
ently left  in  the  canoe,  but  in  his  right  hand  he 
carried  a  paddle,  to  steady  his  steps  and  help  him 
feel  his  way  through  the  dark. 

Once  the  grayness  of  the  open  shore  had  faded 
behind  him,  the  man  found  himself  walking  stealth- 
ily, like  the  stealthiest  of  the  wild  kindred  them- 
selves. The  trail  being  well-worn,  though  long 
deserted  by  man,  his  feet  kept  it  without  difficulty; 
but  he  held  the  paddle  out  before  him  lest  he  should 
stumble  over  a  windfall.  Presently  he  took  note 
of  the  fact  that  the  trail  was  marvellously  smooth 
for  one  that  had  been  so  long  deserted,  and  with 
a  little  creeping  of  the  skin,  which  was  not  in  any 
sense  fear  but  rather  an  acknowledgment  of  mys- 


ZEbe  Xauab  in  tbe  2>arfe  175 

tery,  he  realized  that  it  was  other  than  human  feet 
which  were  keeping  the  lonely  path  in  use.  What 
kind  were  they,  he  wondered,  —  the  great,  noise- 
less pads  of  bear,  or  lynx,  or  panther,  the  hard 
hoofs  of  moose  or  deer,  or  the  airy,  swift  feet  of 
hare  and  mink  and  marten?  As  he  wondered,  mov- 
ing more  and  more  furtively  as  the  spirit  of  the 
unseen  wild  pervaded  and  possessed  him,  his  nos- 
trils discerned  across  the  savours  of  the  trees  and 
the  mould  a  sudden  musky  scent;  and  he  knew 
that  one  of  the  frequenters  of  the  trail  was  a  red 
fox,  who  had  just  gone  by. 

Impressed  by  a  sense  that  he  was  not  so  utterly 
alone  as  he  had  imagined  himself  to  be,  the  man 
now  obeyed  one  of  the  wary  impulses  of  the  wood- 
folk.  He  stepped  aside  from  the  trail,  feeling  his 
way,  and  leaned  his  back  against  a  huge  birch-tree. 
The  ragged,  ancient,  sweet-smelling  bark  felt  fa- 
miliar and  friendly  to  his  touch.  Here  he  stood, 
sniffing  the  still  air  with  discrimination,  testing  with 
initiated  ears  every  faint  forest  breathing.  The 
infinitesimal  and  incessant  stir  of  growth  and  change 
and  readjustment  was  vaguely  audible  to  his  fine 
sense,  making  a  rhythmic  background  against  which 
the  slightest  unusual  sound,  even  to  the  squeak 
of  a  wood-mouse,  or  the  falling  of  a  worm-bitten 


176        TTbc  Udatcbers  of  tbc  ZTrads 

leaf,  would  have  fairly  startled  the  dark.  Once  he 
heard  a  twig  snap,  far  in  the  depths  on  the  other 
side  of  the  trail,  and  he  knew  that  some  one  of 
the  wild  kindred  had  moved  carelessly.  But  on 
the  trail  nothing  went  by. 

Had  there  been  ever  so  small  a  glimmer  of  light, 
to  enable  his  eyes  to  play  their  part  in  this  forest 
game,  the  man  could  have  watched  for  an  hour 
as  moveless  as  the  tree  on  which  he  leaned.  But 
in  that  strange,  absolute  dark  the  strain  soon  grew 
almost  intolerable.  The  game  certainly  ceased  to 
be  amusing  after  an  uneventful  fifteen  minutes  had 
passed.  He  was  just  about  to  give  up,  to  step 
forth  into  the  trail  and  resume  his  journey  to  the 
cabin,  when  he  caught  a  strange  sound,  which  made 
him  stiffen  back  at  once  into  watchful  rigidity. 

The  sound  was  a  great  breath.  In  its  suddenness 
and  its  vagueness  the  listener  was  unable  to  dis- 
tinguish whether  it  came  from  a  dozen  yards  down 
the  trail,  or  a  couple  of  dozen  inches  from  his  elbow. 
His  nose,  however,  assured  him  that  he  had  not 
the  latter  alternative  to  face;  so  he  waited,  his 
right  hand  upon  the  knife  in  his  belt.  He  could 
hear  his  heart  beating. 

For  several  minutes  nothing  more  was  heard. 
Then  through  the  high  leafage  overhead  splashed 


Ube  Xaugb  in  tbe  E>arfc  177 

a  few  big  drops  of  rain,  with  the  hushing  sound 
of  a  shower  not  heavy  enough  to  break  through. 
The  next  moment  a  flash  of  white  lightning  lit  up 
the  forest  aisles,  —  and  in  that  moment  the  man 
saw  a  huge  black  bear  standing  in  the  trail,  not 
ten  feet  distant.  In  that  moment  the  eyes  of  the 
man  and  the  eyes  of  the  beast  met  each  other  fairly. 
Then  the  blackness  fell  once  more;  and  a  thin 
peal  of  midsummer  thunder  rolled  over  the  unseen 
tree-tops. 

When  all  was  silence  again  the  man  felt  uncom- 
fortable, and  regretted  the  rifle  which  he  had  left 
under  the  canoe.  That  the  bear  would  attack  him, 
unprovoked,  he  knew  to  be  improbable;  but  he 
also  knew  enough  about  bears  to  know  that  it  is 
never  well  to  argue  too  confidently  as  to  what  they 
will  do.  The  more  he  waited  and  listened,  the  more 
he  felt  sure  that  the  bear  was  also  waiting  and 
listening,  in  an  uncertainty  not  much  unlike  his 
own.  He  decided  that  it  was  for  him  to  take  the 
initiative.  Clapping  his  hands  smartly,  he  threw 
back  his  head,  and  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter. 

The  loud,  incongruous  sound  shocked  the  silences. 
It  almost  horrified  the  man  himself,  so  unexpected, 
so  unnatural,  so  inexplicable  did  it  seem  even  to 
his  own  ears.  When  it  ceased,  he  knew  that  it 


178        Ube  TKflatcbers  of  tbc  trails 

had  accomplished  its  purpose.  He  heard  rustling 
and  snapping  noises  swiftly  diminishing  in  the 
distance,  and  knew  that  the  bear  was  retreating 
in  a  panic.  At  this  he  laughed  again,  not  loudly, 
but  to  himself,  and  stepped  out  into  the  trail. 

But  the  man  was  not  yet  done  with  the  effects 
of  his  loud  challenge  to  the  solemnities  of  the  dark. 
Hardly  had  he  taken  three  steps  along  the  trail 
when  a  little  in  front  of  him  —  perhaps,  as  he 
guessed,  some  five  and  twenty  paces  —  there  arose 
a  slashing  and  crashing  noise  of  struggle.  Branches 
cracked  and  rustled  and  snapped,  heavy  feet  pounded 
the  earth,  and  a  confusion  of  gasping  grunts  sug- 
gested a  blind  menagerie  in  mortal  combat.  The 
man,  fairly  startled,  groped  his  way  back  to  the 
tree,  and  waited  behind  it,  knife  in  hand.  In  fact 
he  had  a  strong  inclination  to  climb  into  the 
branches;  but  this  impulse  he  angrily  restrained. 

For  a  whole  minute  the  daunting  uproar  con- 
tinued, neither  approaching  nor  receding,  and  at 
length  the  man's  curiosity,  ever  insatiable  where 
the  mysteries  of  the  wild  were  concerned,  got  the 
better  of  his  prudence.  He  lit  a  match  and  peered 
from  behind  his  shelter.  The  little,  sudden  blaze 
spread  a  sharp  light,  but  whatever  was  making 
the  uproar  went  on  as  before,  quite  heedless  of  the 


Xaugb  tn  tbe  H>arfe  179 

singular  phenomenon.  When  the  match  died  out 
it  left  the  man  no  wiser.  Then  with  hurried  hands 
he  stripped  some  birch  bark,  and  rolled  himself  a 
serviceable  torch.  When  this  blazed  up  with  its 
smoky  flame,  he  held  it  well  off  to  one  side  and 
a  little  behind  him,  and  made  his  way  warily  to 
the  scene  of  the  disturbance. 

A  turn  in  the  trail,  and  the  mystery  stood  re- 
vealed. With  a  cry  of  indignation  the  man  darted 
forward,  no  longer  cautious.  What  he  saw  before 
him  was  a  great,  gaunt  moose-cow  reared  upon 
her  hind  legs,  caught  under  the  jaws  by  a  villainous 
moose-snare.  With  her  head  high  among  the 
branches,  she  lurched  and  kicked  in  a  brave  strug- 
gle for  life,  while  every  effort  but  drew  tighter 
the  murdering  noose.  A  few  feet  away  stood  her 
lanky  calf,  trembling,  and  staring  stupidly  at  the 
light. 

The  man  lost  not  a  moment.  Dropping  his  bundle 
and  paddle,  but  carefully  guarding  the  torch,  he 
climbed  the  tree  above  the  victim,  lay  out  on  a 
branch,  reached  down,  and  dexterously  severed  the 
noose  with  his  knife.  What  matter  if,  with  his 
haste  and  her  struggles,  he  at  the  same  time  cut 
a  slash  in  the  beast's  stout  hide?  The  blood-letting 
was  a  sorely  needed  medicine  to  her  choked  veins. 


i8o        Ube  Matcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

She  fell  in  a  heap,  and  for  a  minute  or  two  lay 
gasping  loudly.  Then  she  staggered  to  her  feet, 
and  stood  swaying,  while  she  nosed  the  calf  with 
her  long  muzzle  to  assure  herself  that  it  had  not 
been  hurt  in  the  cataclysm  which  had  overtaken 
her. 

The  man  watched  her  until  his  torch  was  almost 
gone,  then  climbed  down  the  tree  (which  was  not 
a  birch)  to  get  himself  another.  Noticing  him  now 
for  the  first  time,  the  moose  pulled  herself  together 
with  a  mighty  effort,  and  thrust  the  calf  behind 
her.  Could  this  be  the  enemy  who  had  so  nearly 
vanquished  her?  For  a  moment  the  man  thought 
she  was  going  to  charge  upon  him,  and  he  held 
himself  in  readiness  to  go  up  the  tree  again.  But 
the  poor  shaken  beast  thought  better  of  it.  Pain, 
rage,  fear,  amazement,  doubt,  —  all  these  the  man 
fancied  he  could  see  in  her  staring,  bloodshot  eyes. 
He  stood  quite  still,  pitying  her,  and  cursing  the 
brutal  poachers  who  had  set  the  snare.  Then,  just 
before  the  torch  gave  its  last  flicker,  the  great  ani- 
mal turned  and  led  her  calf  off  through  the  woods, 
looking  back  nervously  as  she  went. 

When  the  light  was  out,  and  silence  had  come 
again  upon  the  forest,  the  man  resumed  his  jour- 
ney. He  travelled  noisily,  whistling  and  stamping 


Ube  Xaugb  in  tbe  H>arfc  181 

as  he  went,  as  a  warning  to  all  wild  creatures  that 
a  man  was  in  their  woods,  and  that  they  must  give 
room  to  a  master.  He  carried  with  him  now,  be- 
sides his  blanket  and  his  paddle,  a  generous  roll  of 
birch  bark,  with  which  to  illuminate  the  lumber 
shanty  before  going  in.  It  had  occurred  to  him 
that  possibly  some  lynx  or  wildcat  might  have  taken 
up  its  dwelling  therein ;  and  if  so,  he  was  no  longer 
in  the  mood  to  meet  it  at  close  quarters  in  the  dark. 


Ikinge  of  tbc  Intervale 


Ikfngs  of  tbe  flntervale 

AR  out  over  the  pale,  smooth  surface  of 
the  river  a  crow  flew,  flapping  heavily. 
From  time  to  time  he  uttered  an  angry 
and  frightened  squawk.  Over,  under,  and  all 
around  him,  now  darting  at  his  eyes,  now  dropping 
upon  him  like  a  little,  arrow-pointed  thunderbolt, 
now  slapping  a  derisive  wing  across  his  formid- 
able beak,  flashed  a  small,  dark  bird  whose  silvery 
white  belly  now  and  then  caught  the  sun. 

The  crow's  accustomed  alert  self-possession  was 
quite  shattered.  He  had  forgotten  his  own  powers 
of  attack.  He  seemed  to  fear  for  his  eyes,  —  and 
among  all  the  wild  kindred  there  is  no  fear  more 
horrifying  than  that.  When  he  ducked,  and 
swerved,  and  tried  to  dodge,  he  did  it  awkwardly, 
as  if  his  presence  of  mind  was  all  gone. 

His  assailant,  less  than  a  third  of  his  weight,  was 
a  king-bird,  whose  nest,  in  the  crotch  of  an  elm 
on  the  intervale  meadow,  the  crow  had  been  so  ill- 
advised  as  to  investigate.    The  crow  was  compara- 
185 


i86        ftbe  Matcbers  ot  tbe  trails 


tively  inexperienced,  or  he  would  have  known  enough 
to  keep  away  from  the  nests  of  the  king-birds. 
But  there  it  was,  in  plain  sight;  and  he  loved  eggs 
or  tender  nestlings.  Before  he  had  had  time  to  find 
out  which  it  was  that  the  nest  contained,  both  the 
parent  birds  had  fallen  upon  him  with  a  swift 
ferocity  which  speedily  took  away  his  appetite  for 
food  or  fight.  Their  beaks  were  sturdy  and  burn- 
ing sharp.  Their  short,  powerful  wings  gave  them 
a  flight  so  swift  and  darting  that,  for  all  his  superior 
strength,  he  felt  himself  at  their  mercy.  His  one 
thought  was  to  save  his  eyes  and  escape. 

Both  birds  chased  him  till  he  was  well  out 
over  the  river.  Then  the  female  returned  to  her 
nest,  leaving  her  mate  to  complete  the  intruder's 
chastisement.  Had  the  crow  been  an  old  and 
cunning  bird,  he  would  have  sought  the  extreme 
heights  of  air,  where  the  king-bird  is  disinclined 
to  follow;  but  lacking  this  crow-  wisdom,  he  kept 
on  at  the  level  of  the  tallest  tree-tops,  and  was  forced 
to  take  his  punishment.  He  was,  in  reality,  more 
sore  and  terrified  than  actually  injured.  That  dart- 
ing, threatening  beak  of  his  pursuer  never  actually 
struck  his  eyes.  But  for  this,  it  is  probable,  he  had 
only  the  indulgence  of  the  king-bird  to  thank.  When 
at  last  the  chastiser,  tired  of  his  task,  turned  and 


"Cbe  "Kings  of  tbe  Intervale        187 

flew  back  up  the  river  toward  the  nest  in  the  elm- 
crotch,  the  ruffled  crow  took  refuge  out  of  sight,  in 
the  top  of  the  densest  hemlock,  where  he  rolled  his 
eyes  and  preened  his  plumage  silently  for  an  hour 
before  daring  again  the  vicissitudes  of  the  wilderness 
world. 

The  nest  to  which  the  triumphant  king-bird 
hurried  back  was  audaciously  perched  in  plain  view 
of  every  prowler.  The  crotch  of  the  elm-tree  which 
it  occupied  was  about  twelve  feet  from  the  ground. 
The  intervale,  or  water-meadow,  by  the  side  of 
the  river,  held  but  a  few  widely  scattered  trees,  — 
trees  of  open  growth,  such  as  elm,  balsam-poplar, 
and  water-ash.  It  was  free  from  all  underbrush. 
There  was  nothing,  therefore,  to  shield  the  nest 
from  even  the  most  careless  eyes;  and  with  an 
insolence  of  fearlessness  matched  only  by  that  of 
the  osprey,  it  was  made  the  more  conspicuous  by 
having  great  tufts  of  white  wool  from  a  neighbour- 
ing sheep-pasture  woven  into  its  bulky,  irregular 
frame.  So  irregular  and  haphazard,  indeed,  did  it 
appear,  that  it  might  almost  have  been  mistaken  for 
a  bunch  of  rubbish  left  in  the  tree  from  the  time 
of  freshet.  But  if  the  two  king-birds  relied  on  this 
resemblance  as  a  concealment,  they  presumed  as 
so  clever  a  bird  is  not  likely  to  do  upon  the  blindness 


1 88        Ube  Tldatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

or  stupidity  of  the  wild  kindred.  The  wild  kindred 
are  seldom  blind,  and  very  seldom  stupid,  because 
those  members  of  the  fellowship  who  are  possessed 
of  such  defects  sooner  or  later  go  to  feed  their  fel- 
lows. Hence  it  was  that  most  of  the  folk  of  the 
riverside,  furred  or  feathered,  knew  well  enough 
what  the  big  whitish-gray  bunch  of  rubbish  in  the 
elm-crotch  was. 

There  were  five  eggs  at  the  bottom  of  the  smooth, 
warm  cup,  which  formed  the  heart  of  the  nest.  They 
were  a  little  smaller  than  a  robin's  egg,  and  of 
a  soft  creamy  white,  blotched  irregularly  with  dull 
purplish  maroon  of  varying  tone.  So  jealous  of 
these  mottled  marvels  were  the  king-birds  that  not 
even  the  most  harmless  of  visitors  were  allowed  to 
look  upon  them.  If  so  much  as  a  thrush,  or  a  pewee, 
or  a  mild-mannered  white  throat,  presumed  to  alight 
on  the  very  remotest  branch  of  that  elm,  it  was 
brusquely  driven  away. 

One  morning  early,  the  male  king-bird  was  sit- 
ting very  erect,  as  was  his  custom,  on  the  naked  tip 
of  a  long,  slender,  dead  branch  some  ten  feet  above 
the  nest.  The  morning  chill  was  yet  in  the  air,  so 
it  was  a  little  early  for  the  flies  which  formed  his 
food  to  be  stirring.  But  he  was  hungry,  and  on  the 
alert  for  the  first  of  them  to  appear.  Only  the  tense 


Ube  Icings  of  tbe  flnterxmle         189 

feathers  of  his  crest,  raised  to  show  the  flame-orange 
spot  which  was  his  kingly  crown,  betrayed  his  eager- 
ness; for  he  was  a  self-contained  bird.  The  sun 
was  just  beginning  to  show  the  red  topmost  edge  of 
his  rim  through  the  jagged  line  of  firs  across  the 
river,  and  the  long,  level  streaks  of  aerial  rose, 
creeping  under  the  branches,  filled  all  the  shadowed 
places  of  the  wilderness  with  mysterious  light.  The 
eastward  sides  of  the  tree-trunks  and  naked  branches 
glimmered  pink ;  and  dew-wet  leaves,  here  and  there, 
shone  like  pale  jewels  of  pink,  amber,  and  violet. 
The  mirror-like  surface  of  the  river  was  blurred 
with  twisting  spirals  of  mist,  silvery  and  opales- 
cent, through  which  the  dim-seen  figure  of  a  duck 
in  straight  flight  shot  like  a  missile. 

As  the  king-bird  sat  erect  on  his  branch,  watch- 
ing with  bright  eyes  the  miracle  of  the  morning, 
an  over-adventurous  dragon-fly  arose  from  a  weed- 
top  below  him  and  flew  into  the  rosy  light.  The 
bird  darted  straight  and  true,  zigzagged  sharply 
as  the  victim  tried  to  dodge,  caught  the  lean  prize 
in  his  beak,  and  carried  it  very  gallantly  to  his  mate 
upon  the  nest.  Then  he  fluttered  back  to  his  post 
on  the  branch. 

As  the  sun  got  up  over  the  hill,  and  the  warmth 
dried  their  wings,  the  intervale  began  to  hum  softly 


i9o        Hbe  tUatcbers  of  tbe 

with  dancing  flies  and  hurrying  beetles,  and  the  king- 
bird was  continually  on  the  move,  twittering  with 
soft  monotony  (his  sole  attempt  at  song),  between 
each  successful  sally.  At  length  the  female  rose 
from  her  eggs,  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  nest,  and 
gave  an  impatient  call.  Her  mate  flew  down  to  takt 
her  place,  and  the  two  perched  side  by  side,  making  a 
low  chirping  sound  in  their  throats. 

Just  at  this  moment  a  small  black  snake,  warmed 
into  activity  and  hunger  by  the  first  rays  of  the 
sun,  glided  to  the  tree  and  began  to  climb.  Bird's- 
nesting  was  the  black  snake's  favourite  employment ; 
but  it  had  not  stopped  to  consider  that  the  nest  in 
this  particular  tree  was  a  king-bird's.  It  climbed 
swiftly  and  noiselessly,  and  the  preoccupied  birds 
did  not  get  glimpse  of  it  till  it  was  within  two 
feet  of  the  nest. 

There  was  no  time  for  consultation  in  the  face 
of  this  peril.  Like  lightning  the  two  darted  down 
upon  the  enemy,  buffeting  its  head  with  swift  wing- 
strokes.  The  first  assault  all  but  swept  it  from  the 
tree,  and  it  shrank  back  upon  itself  with  flattened 
head  and  angry  hiss.  Then  it  struck  fiercely,  again 
and  again,  at  its  bewildering  assailants.  But  swift 
as  were  its  movements,  those  of  the  king-birds  were 
swifter,  and  its  fangs  never  hit  upon  so  much  as 


ftfngs  of  tbe  Intervale         191 

one  harassing  feather.  Suddenly,  in  its  fury,  it 
struck  out  too  far,  weakening  for  a  moment  its  hold 
upon  the  crevices  of  the  bark;  and  in  that  moment, 
both  birds  striking  it  together,  its  squirming  folds 
were  hurled  to  the  ground.  Thoroughly  cowed, 
it  slipped  under  cover  and  made  off,  only  a  waver- 
ing line  among  the  grasses  betraying  its  path.  The 
king-birds,  with  excited  and  defiant  twittering, 
followed  for  a  little  its  hidden  retreat,  and  then 
returned  elated  to  the  nest. 

Among  the  kindred  of  the  wild  as  well  as  among 
those  of  roof  and  hearth,  events  are  apt  to  go  in 
company.  For  day  after  day  things  will  revolve 
in  set  fashion.  Then  chance  takes  sudden  interest 
in  a  particular  spot  or  a  certain  individual,  and 
there,  for  a  time,  is  established  a  centre  for  events. 
This  day  of  the  black  snake  was  an  eventful  day  for 
the  little  kings  of  the  intervale.  They  had  hardly 
more  than  recovered  from  their  excitement  over 
the  snake  when  a  red  squirrel,  his  banner  of  a  tail 
flaunting  superbly  behind  him,  came  bounding  over 
the  grass  to  their  tree.  His  intentions  may  have 
been  strictly  honourable.  But  a  red  squirrel's  inten- 
tions are  liable  to  change  in  the  face  of  opportunity. 
As  he  ran  up  the  tree,  and  paused  curiously  at 
the  nested  crotch,  a  feathered  thunderbolt  struck 


i92        TTbe  Watcbers  of  tbe  trails 

him  on  the  side  of  the  head.  It  knocked  him  clean 
out  of  the  tree;  and  he  turned  a  complete  somer- 
sault in  the  air  before  he  could  get  his  balance  and 
spread  his  legs  so  as  to  alight  properly.  When  he 
reached  the  ground  he  fled  in  dismay,  and  was  soon 
heard  chattering  vindictively  among  the  branches 
of  a  far-off  poplar. 

It  was  a  little  before  noon  when  came  the  great 
event  of  this  eventful  day.  The  male  king-bird  was 
on  the  edge  of  the  nest,  feeding  a  fat  moth  to  his 
mate.  As  he  straightened  up  and  glanced  around 
he  saw  a  large  marsh-hawk  winnowing  low  across 
the  river.  As  it  reached  the  shore  it  swooped  into  the 
reed-fringe,  but  rose  again  without  a  capture.  For  a 
few  minutes  it  quartered  the  open  grass  near  the 
bank,  hunting  for  mice.  The  two  king-birds  watched 
it  with  anxious,  angry  eyes.  Suddenly  it  sailed 
straight  toward  the  tree;  and  the  king-birds  shot 
into  the  air,  ready  for  battle. 

It  was  not  the  precious  nest,  however,  nor  the 
owners  of  the  nest,  on  which  the  fierce  eyes  of  the 
marsh-hawk  had  fallen.  When  he  was  within 
twenty  paces  of  the  nest  he  dropped  into  the  grass. 
There  was  a  moment  of  thrashing  wings,  then  he 
rose  again,  and  beat  back  toward  the  river  with  a 
young  rauskrat  in  his  talons. 


Ube  Icings  of  tbe  Intervale         193 

Considering  the  size  and  savagery  of  the  hawk, 
any  small  bird  but  the  little  king  would  have  been 
well  content  with  his  riddance.  Not  so  the  king- 
birds. With  shrill  chirpings  they  sped  to  the  rescue. 
Their  wings  cuffed  the  marauder's  head  in  a  fashion 
that  confused  him.  Their  wedge-like  beaks  menaced 
his  eyes  and  brought  blood  through  the  short 
feathers  on  the  top  of  his  head.  He  could  make  no 
defence  or  counter-attack  against  opponents  so  small 
and  so  agile  of  wing.  At  length  a  sharp  jab  split 
the  lower  lid  of  one  eye,  —  and  this  added  fear  to 
his  embarrassment.  He  dropped  the  muskrat,  which 
fell  into  the  river  and  swam  off  little  the  worse  for 
the  experience. 

Relieved  of  his  burden,  the  hawk  made  all  speed 
to  escape.  At  the  farther  shore  the  female  king-bird 
desisted  from  the  pursuit,  and  hurried  back  to  her 
nest.  But  the  avenging  wrath  of  the  male  was  not 
so  easily  pacified.  Finding  the  tormentor  still  at 
his  head,  the  hawk  remembered  the  security  of  the 
upper  air,  and  began  to  mount  in  sharp  spirals. 
The  king-bird  pursued  till,  seen  from  the  earth,  he 
seemed  no  bigger  than  a  bee  dancing  over  the 
hawk's  back.  Then  he  disappeared  altogether ;  and 
the  hawk,  but  for  his  nervous,  harassed  flight,  might 
have  seemed  to  be  alone  in  that  clear  altitude.  At 


i94         cbe  raatcbers  of  tbe  {Trails 

last  his  wings  were  seen  to  steady  themselves  into 
the  tranquil,  majestic  soaring  of  his  kind.  Presently, 
far  below  the  soaring  wings,  appeared  a  tiny  dark 
shape,  zigzagging  swiftly  downward;  and  soon 
the  king-bird,  hastening  across  the  river,  alighted 
once  more  on  his  branch  and  began  to  preen  him- 
self composedly. 


Cbe  Ikili 


Ebe  Ifcdl 

|T  was  early  winter  and  early  morning, 
and  the  first  of  the  light  lay  sharp  on 
the  new  snow.  The  sun  was  just  lift- 
ing over  a  far  and  low  horizon.  Long,  level  rays, 
streaking  the  snow  with  straight,  attenuated  stains 
of  pinkish  gold  and  sharp  lines  of  smoky-blue 
shadow,  pierced  the  edges  of  the  tall  fir  forests  of 
Touladi.  Though  every  tint  —  of  the  blackish- 
green  firs,  of  the  black-brown  trunks,  of  the  violet 
and  yellow  and  gray  birch  saplings,  of  the  many- 
hued  snow  spaces  —  was  unspeakably  tender  and 
delicate,  the  atmosphere  was  of  a  transparency  and 
brilliancy  almost  vitreous.  One  felt  as  if  the  whole 
scene  might  shatter  and  vanish  at  th?  shock  of  any 
sudden  sound.  Then  a  sound  came  —  but  it  was  not 
sudden;  and  the  mystic  landscape  did  not  dissolve. 
It  was  a  sound  of  heavy,  measured,  muffled  footfalls 
crushing  the  crisp  snow.  There  was  a  bending  and 
swishing  of  bare  branches,  a  rattling  as  of  twigs 
upon  horn  or  ivory  —  and  a  huge  bull  moose 
i97 


i98        ftbe  TKIlatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

strode  into  view.  With  his  splendid  antlers  laid 
far  back  he  lifted  his  great,  dilating  nostrils,  stared 
down  the  long,  white  lanelike  open  toward  the 
rising  sun,  and  sniffed  the  air  inquiringly.  Then 
he  turned  to  browse  on  the  aromatic  twigs  of  the 
birch  saplings. 

The  great  moose  was  a  lord  of  his  kind.  His 
long,  thick,  glistening  hair  was  almost  black  over  the 
wpper  portions  of  his  body,  changing  abruptly  to  a 
tawny  ochre  on  the  belly,  and  the  inner  and  lower 
parts  of  the  legs.  The  maned  and  hump-like 
ridge  of  his  mighty  fore-shoulders  stood  a  good 
six  feet  three  from  the  ground ;  and  the  spread  of 
his  polished,  palmated  antlers,  so  massive  as  to  look 
a  burden  for  even  so  colossal  a  head  and  neck  as  his, 
was  well  beyond  five  feet.  The  ridge  of  his  back 
sloped  down  to  hind-quarters  disproportionately 
small,  finished  off  with  a  little,  meagrely  tufted  tail 
that  on  any  beast  less  regal  in  mien  and  stature 
would  have  looked  ridiculous.  The  majesty  of  a 
bull  moose,  however,  is  too  secure  to  be  marred  by 
the  incongruous  pettiness  of  his  tail.  From  the 
lower  part  of  his  neck,  where  the  great  muscles 
ran  into  the  spacious,  corded  chest,  hung  a  curious 
tuft  of  long  and  very  coarse  black  hair,  called 
among  woodsmen  the  "  bell."  As  he  turned  to  his 


"  STARED    DOWN    THE   LONG.    WHITE    LANELIKE   OPEN, 


Ube  •Rill  199 

browsing,  his  black  form  stood  out  sharply  against 
the  background  of  the  firs.  Far  down  the  silent, 
glittering  slope,  a  good  mile  distant,  a  tall,  gray 
figure  on  snow-shoes  appeared  for  a  second  in  the 
open,  caught  sight  of  the  pasturing  moose,  and 
vanished  hurriedly  into  the  birch  thickets. 

Having  cropped  a  few  mouth fuls  here  and  there 
from  branches  within  easy  reach,  the  great  bull  set 
himself  to  make  a  more  systematic  breakfast. 
Selecting  a  tall  young  birch  with  a  bushy  top,  he 
leaned  his  chest  against  it  until  he  bore  it  to  the 
ground.  Then,  straddling  it  and  working  his  way 
along  toward  the  top,  he  held  it  firmly  while  he 
browsed  at  ease  upon  the  juiciest  and  most  savoury 
of  the  tips. 

For  some  minutes  he  had  been  thus  pleasantly 
occupied,  when  suddenly  an  obscure  apprehension 
stirred  in  his  brain.  He  stopped  feeding,  lifted  his 
head,  and  stood  motionless.  Only  his  big  ears 
moved,  turning  their  wary  interrogations  toward 
every  point  of  the  compass,  and  his  big  nostrils 
suspiciously  testing  every  current  of  air.  Neither 
nose  nor  ears,  the  most  alert  of  his  sentinels,  gave 
any  report  of  danger.  He  looked  about,  saw  noth- 
ing unusual,  and  fell  again  to  feeding. 

Among  the  wild  kindreds,   as  far  as  man  can 


300        ftbe  IKaatcbers  ot  tbe  Urails 


judge,  there  are  occasional  intuitions  that  seem  to 
work  beyond  the  scope  of  the  senses.  It  is  not 
ordinarily  so,  else  would  all  hunting,  on  the  part  of 
man  or  of  the  hunting  beasts,  be  idle.  But  once  in 
a  while,  as  if  by  some  unwilling  telepathic  com- 
munication from  hunter  to  hunted,  or  else  by  an 
obscure  and  only  half-delivered  message  from  the 
powers  that  preside  over  the  wild  kindreds,  a  warn- 
ing of  peril  is  conveyed  to  a  pasturing  creature 
while  yet  the  peril  is  far  off  and  unrevealed.  The 
great  moose  found  his  appetite  all  gone.  He  backed 
off  the  sapling  and  let  its  top  spring  up  again  toward 
the  empty  blue.  He  looked  back  nervously  over  his 
trail,  sniffed  the  air,  waved  his  ears  inquiringly. 
The  more  he  found  nothing  to  warrant  his  uneasi- 
ness, the  more  his  uneasiness  grew.  It  was  as  if 
Death,  following  far  off  but  relentlessly,  had  sent 
a  grim  menace  along  the  windings  of  the  trail. 
Something  like  a  panic  came  into  the  dilating  eyes 
of  the  big  bull.  He  turned  toward  the  fir  forest, 
at  a  walk  which  presently  broke  into  a  shambling, 
rapid  trot;  and  presently  he  disappeared  among  the 
sombre  and  shadowy  colonnades. 

In  the  strange  gloom  of  the  forest,  a  transparent 
gloom  confused  by  thin  glints  and  threads  of  pen- 
etrating, pinkish  light,  the  formless  alarm  of  the 


ttbe  Km  20, 

moose  began  to  subside.  In  a  few  minutes  his  wild 
run  diminished  into  a  rapid  walk.  He  would  not 
go  back  to  his  feeding,  however.  He  had  been 
seized  with  a  shuddering  distrust  of  the  young  birch 
thickets  on  the  slope.  Over  beyond  the  next  ridge 
there  were  some  bushy  swales  which  he  remembered 
as  good  pasturage  —  where,  indeed,  he  had  a  mind 
to  "  yard  up  "  for  the  winter,  when  the  snow  should 
get  too  deep  for  wide  ranging.  Once  more  quicken- 
ing his  pace,  he  circled  back  almost  to  the  fringe  of 
the  forest,  making  toward  a  little  stretch  of  frozen 
marsh,  which  was  one  of  his  frequented  runways 
between  ridge  and  ridge.  That  nameless  fear  in  the 
birch  thickets  still  haunted  him,  however,  and  he 
moved  with  marvellous  quietness.  Not  once  did 
his  vast  antlers  and  his  rushing  bulk  disturb  the  dry 
undergrowth,  or  bring  the  brittle,  dead  branches 
crashing  down  behind  him.  The  only  sound  that 
followed  him  was  that  of  the  shallow  snow  yielding 
crisply  under  his  feet,  and  a  light  clicking,  as  the 
tips  of  his  deep-cleft,  loose-spreading  hoofs  came 
together  at  the  recovery  of  each  stride.  This  click- 
ing, one  of  the  most  telltale  of  wilderness  sounds 
to  the  woodsman's  ear,  grew  more  sharp  and  insist- 
ent as  the  moose  increased  his  speed,  till  presently 
it  became  a  sort  of  castanet  accompaniment  to  his 


202        Ube  TKHatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

long,  hurried  stride.  A  porcupine,  busy  girdling  a 
hemlock,  ruffled  and  rattled  his  dry  quills  at  the 
sound,  and  peered  down  with  little,  disapproving 
eyes  as  the  big,  black  form  fled  by  below  him. 

The  snowy  surface  of  the  marsh  was  stained  with 
ghosts  of  colour  —  aerial,  elusive  tinges  of  saffron 
and  violet  —  as  the  moose  came  out  upon  it.  As  he 
swung  down  its  lonely  length,  his  gigantic  shadow, 
lopsided  and  blue,  danced  along  threateningly, 
its  head  lost  in  the  bushes  fringing  the  open.  When 
he  came  to  the  end  of  the  marsh,  where  the  wooded 
slope  of  the  next  ridge  began,  he  half  paused,  reach- 
ing his  long  muzzle  irresolutely  toward  the  tempt- 
ing twigs  of  a  young  willow  thicket;  but  before 
he  could  gather  one  mouthful,  that  nameless  fear 
came  over  him  again,  that  obscure  forewarning  of 
doom,  and  he  sprang  forward  toward  the  cover  of 
the  firs.  As  he  sprang,  there  was  a  movement  and  a 
flash  far  down  a  wooded  alley  —  a  sharp,  ringing 
crack  —  and  something  invisible  struck  him  in  the 
body.  He  had  been  struck  before,  by  falling 
branches,  or  by  stones  bounding  down  a  bluff,  but 
this  missile  seemed  very  different  and  very  small. 
Small  as  it  was,  however,  the  blow  staggered  him  for 
an  instant;  then  he  shuddered,  and  a  surge  of  heat 
passed  through  his  nerves.  But  a  second  later  he 


Ube  "Rill  203 

recovered  himself  fully,  and  bounded  into  the  woods, 
just  in  time  to  escape  a  second  bullet,  as  a  second 
shot  rang  out  in  vain  behind  him. 

Straight  up  the  wooded  steep  he  ran,  startled,  but 
less  actually  terrified  now,  in  fleeing  from  a  definite 
peril,  then  when  trembling  before  a  formless  menace. 
This  peril  was  one  that  he  felt  he  could  cope  with. 
He  knew  his  own  strength  and  speed.  Now  that 
he  had  the  start  of  them,  these  slow-moving,  relent- 
less man-creatures,  with  the  sticks  that  spoke  fire, 
could  never  overtake  him.  With  confident  vigour 
he  breasted  the  incline,  his  mighty  muscles  working 
as  never  before  under  the  black  hair  of  shoulder  and 
flank.  But  he  did  not  know  that  every  splendid 
stride  was  measured  by  a  scarlet  sign  on  the  snow. 

For  a  few  minutes  the  moose  rushed  on  through 
the  morning  woods,  up  and  up  between  the  tall 
trunks  of  the  firs,  half-forgetting  his  alarm  in  the 
triumph  of  his  speed.  Then  it  began  to  seem  to  him 
that  the  slope  of  the  hill  had  grown  steeper  than  of 
old;  gradually,  and  half-unconsciously,  he  changed 
his  course,  and  ran  parallel  with  the  ridge ;  and  with 
this  change  the  scarlet  signs  upon  his  trail  grew 
scanter.  But  in  a  few  minutes  more  he  began  to 
feel  that  the  snow  was  deeper  than  it  had  been  — 
deeper,  and  more  clinging.  It  weighted  his  hoofs 


2o4        Ube  TKttatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

and  fetlocks  as  it  had  never  done  before,  and  his 
pace  slackened.  He  began  to  be  troubled  by  the 
thick  foam  welling  into  his  nostrils  and  obstructing 
his  breath.  As  he  blew  it  forth  impatiently  it  made 
red  flecks  and  spatters  on  the  snow.  He  had  no  pain, 
no  realization  that  anything  had  gone  wrong  with 
him.  But  his  eyes  took  on  suddenly  a  harassed, 
anxious  look,  and  he  felt  himself  growing  tired. 
He  must  rest  a  little  before  continuing  his  flight. 

The  idea  of  resting  while  his  enemies  were  still 
so  near  and  hot  upon  the  trail,  would,  at  any  other 
time,  have  been  rejected  as  absurd;  but  now  the 
brain  of  the  black  moose  was  growing  a  little  con- 
fused. Often  before  this  he  had  run  till  he  felt 
tired,  and  then  lain  down  to  rest.  He  had  never 
felt  tired  till  he  knew  that  he  had  run  a  great  dis- 
tance. Now,  from  his  dimming  intelligence  the  sense 
of  time  had  slipped  away.  He  had  been  running,  and 
he  felt  tired.  Therefore,  he  must  have  run  a  long 
distance,  and  his  slow  enemies  must  have  been  left 
far  behind.  He  could  safely  rest.  His  old  craft, 
however,  did  not  quite  fail  him  at  this  point.  Be- 
fore yielding  to  the  impulse  which  urged  him  to 
lie  down,  he  doubled  and  ran  back,  parallel  to  his 
trail  and  some  fifty  paces  from  it,  for  a  distance  of 
perhaps  two  hundred  yards.  Staggering  at  every 


-Rill  205 

other  stride,  and  fretfully  blowing  the  stained  froth 
from  his  nostrils,  he  crouched  behind  a  thicket  of 
hemlock  seedlings,  and  watched  the  track  by  which 
his  foes  must  come. 

For  a  little  while  he  kept  his  watch  alertly,  antlers 
laid  back,  ears  attentive,  eyes  wide  and  bright. 
Then,  so  slowly  that  he  did  not  seem  aware  of  it 
himself,  his  massive  head  drooped  forward  till  his 
muzzle  lay  outstretched  upon  the  snow.  So  far 
back  from  the  gate  of  the  senses  drew  the  life 
within  him,  that  when  three  gray-coated  figures  on 
snow-shoes  went  silently  past  on  his  old  trail,  he 
never  saw  them.  His  eyes  were  filled  with  a  blur  of 
snow,  and  shadows,  and  unsteady  trunks,  and  con- 
fusing little  gleams  of  light. 

Of  the  three  hunters  following  on  the  trail  of 
the  great  black  moose,  one  was  more  impetuous  than 
the  others.  It  was  his  first  moose  that  he  was 
trailing;  and  it  was  his  bullet  that  was  speaking 
through  those  scarlet  signs  on  the  snow.  He  kept 
far  ahead  of  his  comrades,  elated  and  fiercely  glad, 
every  nerve  strung  with  expectation.  Behind  each 
bush,  each  thicket,  he  looked  for  the  opportunity 
to  make  the  final,  effective  shot  that  should  end  the 
great  chase.  Not  unlearned  in  woodcraft,  he  knew 
what  it  meant  when  he  reached  the  loop  in  the  trail. 


206        tTbe  TPdatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

He  understood  that  the  moose  had  gone  back  to 
watch  for.  his  pursuers.  What  he  did  not  know  or 
suspect  was,  that  the  watcher's  eyes  had  grown  too 
dim  to  see.  He  took  it  for  granted  that  the  wise 
beast  had  marked  their  passing,  and  fled  off  in  an- 
other direction  as  soon  as  they  got  by.  Instead, 
however,  of  redoubling  his  caution,  he  plunged 
ahead  with  a  burst  of  fresh  enthusiasm.  He  was 
very  properly  sure  his  bullet  had  done  good  work, 
since  it  had  so  soon  compelled  the  enduring  animal 
to  rest. 

A  puff  of  wandering  air,  by  chance,  drifted  down 
from  the  running  man  to  the  thicket,  behind  which 
the  black  bull  lay,  sunk  in  his  torpor.  The  dreaded 
man-scent  —  the  scent  of  death  to  the  wilderness 
folk  —  was  blown  to  the  bull's  nostrils.  Filled 
though  they  were  with  that  red  froth,  their  fine 
sense  caught  the  warning.  The  eyes  might  fail  in 
their  duty,  the  ears  flag  and  betray  their  trust ;  but 
the  nostrils,  skilled  and  schooled,  were  faithful  to 
the  last.  Their  imperative  message  pierced  to  the 
fainting  brain,  and  life  resumed  its  duties.  Once 
more  the  dull  eyes  awoke  to  brightness.  The  great, 
black  form  lunged  up  and  crashed  forward  into  the 
open,  towering,  formidable,  and  shaking  ominous 
antlers. 


ttbe  "Rill  *o7 

Taken  by  surprise,  and  too  close  to  shoot  in  time, 
the  rash  hunter  sprang  aside  to  make  for  a  tree. 
He  had  heard  much  of  the  charge  of  a  wounded 
moose.  As  he  turned,  the  toe  of  one  snow-shoe 
caught  on  a  branchy  stub,  just  below  the  surface  of 
the  snow.  The  snow-shoe  turned  side  on,  and 
tripped  him,  and  he  fell  headlong  right  in  the  path 
of  the  charging  beast. 

As  he  fell,  he  heard  a  shout  from  his  comrades, 
hurrying  up  far  behind  him;  but  the  thought  that 
flashed  through  him  was  that  they  could  not  be  in 
time.  Falling  on  his  face,  he  expected  the  next  in- 
stant to  feel  the  bull's  great  rending  hoofs  descend 
upon  his  back  and  stamp  his  life  out. 

But  the  blow  never  fell.  The  moose  Had  seen 
his  foe  coming,  and  charged  to  meet  him,  his 
strength  and  valour  flashing  up  for  an  instant  as 
the  final  emergency  confronted  him.  But  ere  he 
could  reach  that  prostrate  shape  in  the  snow,  he  for- 
got what  he  was  doing,  and  stopped  short.  With 
legs  a  little  apart  he  braced  himself,  and  stood  rigid. 
His  noble  head  was  held  high,  as  if  he  scorned  the 
enemies  who  had  dogged  him  to  his  last  refuge. 
But  in  reality  he  no  longer  saw  them.  The  breath 
came  hard  through  his  rattling  nostrils,  and  his 
eyes,  very  wide  open,  were  dark  with  a  fear  which 


zos        zibe  TKttatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

he  could  not  understand.  The  life  within  him 
strove  desperately  to  maintain  its  hold  upon  that 
free  and  lordly  habitation.  The  second  hunter,  now, 
was  just  lifting  his  rifle,  —  but  before  he  could 
sight  and  fire,  the  chase  was  ended.  That  erect,  mag- 
nificent figure,  towering  over  the  fallen  man,  col- 
lapsed all  at  once.  It  fell  together  into  a  mere  heap 
of  hide  and  antlers.  The  light  in  the  eyes  went  out, 
as  a  spark  that  is  trodden,  and  the  laboured  breath- 
ing stopped  in  mid-breath.  The  fallen  hunter  sprang 
up,  rushed  forward  with  a  shout,  and  drew  his  knife 
across  the  outstretched  throat 


Xittle  people  of  tbe  Sycamore 


OUttle  people  of  tbe  Sycamore 
i. 

^Isfp^  HE  fantastic  old  sycamore,  standing  alone 
on  the  hill,  thrust  out  its  one  gaunt  limb 
across  the  face  of  the  moon.  It  was  late 
April,  and  the  buds  not  yet  swollen  to  bursting. 
On  the  middle  of  the  limb,  blackly  silhouetted  against 
the  golden  disk,  crouched  a  raccoon,  who  sniffed  the 
spring  air  and  scanned  the  moon-washed  spaces. 
From  the  marshy  spots  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  over 
toward  the  full-fed,  softly  rushing  brook,  came  the 
high  piping  of  the  frogs,  a  voice  of  poignant,  indeter- 
minate desire. 

Having  reconnoitred  the  night  to  her  satisfaction, 
the  raccoon  returned  to  a  deep  hole  in  the  sycamore, 
and  hastily  touched  with  her  pointed  nose  each  in 
turn  of  her  five,  blind,  furry  little  ones.  Very  little 
they  were,  half-cub,  half-kitten  in  appearance,  with 
their  long  noses,  long  tails,  and  bear-like  feet.  They 
huddled  luxuriously  together  in  the  warm,  dry  dark- 


212        Ube  "UHatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

ness  of  the  den,  and  gave  little  squeals  in  response 
to  their  mother's  touch.  In  her  absence  they  had 
been  voiceless,  almost  moveless,  lest  voice  or  motion 
should  betray  them  to  an  enemy. 

Having  satisfied  herself  as  to  the  comfort  of  the 
furry  children,  the  old  raccoon  nimbly  descended 
the  tree,  ran  lightly  down  the  hill,  and  made  for  the 
nearest  pool,  where  the  frogs  were  piping.  She  was 
a  sturdy  figure,  yet  lithe  and  graceful,  about  the 
bulk  of  the  largest  cat,  and  with  a  tail  almost  the 
length  of  her  body.  Her  legs,  however,  were  much 
shorter  and  more  powerful  than  those  of  a  cat; 
and  when,  for  a  moment  of  wary  observation,  she 
stood  still,  her  feet  came  down  flatly,  like  those  of 
a  bear,  though  in  running  she  went  on  her  toes,  light 
as  the  seed  of  the  milkweed.  Her  head  was  much 
like  a  bear's  in  shape,  with  the  nose  very  long  and 
pointed;  and  a  bar  of  black  across  the  middle  of 
her  face,  gave  a  startling  intensity  to  her  dark,  keen, 
half-malicious  eyes.  Her  fur,  very  long  and  thick, 
was  of  a  cloudy  brown ;  and  the  black  rings  on  her 
gray  tail  stood  out  sharply  in  the  moonlight.  Both 
in  expression  and  in  movement,  she  showed  that 
strange  mixture  of  gaiety,  ferocity,  mischievousness, 
and  confident  sagacity,  which  makes  the  raccoon 
unlike  in  character  to  all  the  other  wild  kindreds. 


ttbe  Xittle  people  of  tbc  Sycamore   213 

Though  she  was  on  important  affairs  intent,  and 
carrying  the  cares  of  the  family,  she  was  not  too 
absorbed  to  feel  the  glad  impulse  of  the  spring;  and 
for  sheer  exuberance  of  life,  she  would  go  bounding 
over  a  stick  or  a  stone  as  if  it  were  a  tree  or  a 
boulder.  Though  life  was  a  serious  matter,  she 
was  prepared  to  get  out  of  it  all  the  fun  there  was 
to  be  had. 

But  when  she  neared  the  noisy  pools  she  went 
stealthily  enough.  Nevertheless,  for  all  her  caution, 
the  pipings  ceased  in  that  section  of  the  pool  when 
she  was  within  two  or  three  feet  of  the  waterside; 
and,  in  the  little  space  of  sudden  silence,  she  knew 
that  every  small  piper  was  staring  at  her  with  fixed, 
protruding  eyes.  On  she  went,  straight  out  to 
the  end  of  a  half-submerged  log,  and  there  crouched 
flat,  moveless  as  the  log  itself.  She  knew  that  if 
she  only  kept  still  long  enough,  she  would  come  to 
be  regarded  by  the  pool-dwellers  as  nothing  more 
than  a  portion  of  the  log.  Meanwhile  the  high 
chorus  from  the  adjoining  pools  swelled  ever  louder 
and  shriller,  as  the  small  musicians  voiced  the  joy 
of  spring. 

For  perhaps  ten  minutes  the  space  about  the 
waiting  raccoon  on  the  log  appeared  lifeless.  Then 
one  little  black  spot,  which  had  seemed  like  a  lump 


214        Ube  TOflatcbers  of  tbe  Uratte 

of  mud  against  a  dead  grass-stalk,  moved ;  then  an- 
other, and  another,  and  another  —  all  over  the  pool. 
Pale  throats  began  to  throb  rhythmically;  and  the 
pipings  once  more  pulsed  forth  buoyant  and  strong. 
The  frogs  had  utterly  forgotten  the  intruder,  and 
their  bulging  eyes  were  no  longer  fixed  on  the  log. 
Nevertheless,  as  it  chanced,  there  was  not  a  single 
piper  within  reach  of  the  watcher's  paw. 

The  raccoon's  eyes  gleamed  with  intenser  fire, 
but  she  never  stirred.  She  knew  that  the  price  of 
a  meal,  to  most  of  the  wood-folk,  was  patience  as 
untiring  as  a  stone.  Only  her  full,  dark  eyes,  set 
in  their  bar  of  black,  moved  watchfully,  searching 
the  pallid  spaces  all  about  the  log. 

A  moment  more  and  her  patience  was  rewarded. 
A  big  frog  from  the  neighbour  pool,  unaware  that 
there  had  been  any  intrusion  here,  came  swimming 
up,  on  some  errand  of  private  urgency,  and  made 
directly  for  the  log.  The  next  instant,  before  he 
had  any  inkling  of  the  imminence  of  doom,  the 
raccoon's  forepaw  shot  out  like  a  flash.  It  was  a 
wide-spread,  flexible  paw,  like  a  little,  black,  lean 
hand,  strong  and  delicate,  the  fingers  tipped  with 
formidable  claws.  It  caught  the  swimming  frog 
under  the  belly,  swept  him  from  the  water,  and 
threw  him  far  up  on  to  the  shore.  With  a  pounce, 


4 

Ube  Xittle  people  ot  tbe  Sycamore   215 

the  raccoon  was  upon  him ;  and  a  snap  of  her  strong 
teeth  ended  his  struggles. 

The  raccoon  was  very  hungry,  but,  unlike  others 
of  the  hunting  tribes,  she  did  not  fall  instantly  to 
her  meal.  The  mauled  victim  was  covered  with  bits 
of  dried  stubble  and  leaf  and  earth,  which  clung  to 
its  sticky  skin  and  were  most  distasteful  to  her 
fastidious  appetite.  Picking  it  up  in  her  jaws,  she 
carried  it  back  to  the  pool.  There,  holding  it  in  her 
claws,  she  proceeded  to  wash  it  thoroughly,  sousing 
it  up  and  down  till  there  was  not  a  vestige  of  soilure 
to  be  found  upon  it.  When  quite  satisfied  that  no 
washing  could  make  it  cleaner,  she  fell  to  and  made 
her  meal  with  relish. 

But  what  was  one  frog  to  a  raccoon  with  a  family, 
a  mother  whose  breast  must  supply  five  hungry 
little  mouths?  She  ran  over  to  the  brook,  and  fol- 
lowed down  its  bank  to  a  spot  where  it  widened  out 
and  a  strong  eddy  made  up  against  the  hither  shore, 
washing  a  slope  of  gravel.  Here,  in  the  shallows, 
she  heard  a  feeble  flopping,  and  knew  that  a  sick 
or  disabled  fish  was  making  its  last  fight  with  fate. 
It  was  a  large  chub,  which  had  evidently  been 
hooked  by  some  heedless  trout-fisher  farther  up- 
stream, torn  from  the  hook  in  anger  because  it  was 
not  a  trout,  and  thrown  back  into  the  water,  to  sur- 


216        Ube  "Cdatcbers  of  tbe  tTratls 

vive  or  die  as  the  water-fates  should  will.  It  turned 
on  one  side,  revealing  its  white  belly  and  torn  gills ; 
then,  feeling  itself  washed  ashore  by  the  eddy,  it  gave 
one  more  feeble  flop  in  the  effort  to  regain  the  safe 
deeps.  At  this  moment  the  raccoon,  pouncing  with 
a  light  splash  into  the  shallows,  seized  it,  and  with 
a  nip  through  the  back-bone  ended  its  misery. 

Having  eaten  the  fish,  and  daintily  cleaned  her 
fur,  the  raccoon  ascended  the  bank,  with  the  purpose 
of  returning  to  her  lair  in  the  old  sycamore.  She 
stopped  abruptly,  however,  as  a  new  sound,  very 
different  from  that  of  the  frog  chorus,  fell  upon  her 
heedful  ear.  It  was  an  excited,  yelping  whine ;  and 
presently  she  caught  sight  of  a  long-legged,  plumy- 
tailed  dog,  rushing  wildly  hither  and  thither,  nose  to 
earth,  quartering  the  ground  for  fresh  trails. 

The  raccoon  knew  the  dog,  from  a  distance,  for 
the  young,  unbroken,  brown  Irish  setter  which  had 
lately  come  to  the  neighbour  farm.  His  qualities 
and  capabilities,  however,  were,  as  yet,  unknown  to 
her.  Though  she  knew  herself  more  than  a  match 
for  the  average  dog,  and  particularly  for  the  small 
black  and  white  mongrel  which,  up  to  a  month  ago, 
had  been  the  only  dog  on  the  farm,  she  did  not  know 
just  how  dangerous  the  Irish  setter  might  be.  There- 
fore, though  the  light  of  battle  flamed  into  her  eyes, 


Xittle  people  of  tbe  Sycamore   217 

she  considered  her  responsibilities,  and  looked 
around  for  a  tree. 

There  was  no  tree  near,  so  she  turned,  crouched 
close  to  the  ground,  and  attempted  to  steal  off  un- 
perceived.  But  as  she  turned  the  dog  caught  sight 
of  her.  At  the  same  instant  he  also  caught  her 
scent.  It  was  a  new  scent  to  him,  a  most  interest- 
ing scent;  and  he  rushed  upon  her,  with  streaming 
tail  and  a  peal  of  joyously  savage  yelpings.  The 
raccoon  backed  up  against  a  granite  rock,  and  stood 
at  bay,  her  long,  white  teeth  bared,  her  eyes  fierce, 
fearless,  and  watchful. 

The  Irish  setter  was  a  wild,  undisciplined  pup, 
harebrained  and  headlong  after  the  manner  of 
his  breed.  Of  raccoons  and  their  capabilities  he  had 
had  no  experience.  This  small,  crouching  animal, 
under  the  rock  in  the  moonlight,  seemed  to  promise 
an  easy  victory.  He  sprang  upon  her,  open-mouthed, 
and  snapped  confidently  at  her  neck. 

All  his  big  jaws  got  were  a  few  hairs ;  for  on  the 
instant  the  raccoon  had  dodged.  Her  keen  claws 
raked  the  side  of  his  face,  and  her  fine,  punishing 
fangs  tore  a  gash  in  his  neck,  dangerously  near  his 
throat.  With  a  yelp  of  pain  and  terror  he  tore 
himself  free  of  those  deadly  teeth  and  bounded  out 
of  reach.  And  the  raccoon,  silently  triumphant, 


2iS        Ube  'CUatcbers  of  tbe  Gratis 

backed  up  again  into  her  posture  of  defence  against 
the  rock. 

But  the  Irish  setter,  in  that  half-minute,  had 
learned  a  great  deal  about  raccoons.  He  now  re- 
fused to  come  within  four  or  five  feet  of  his  small 
antagonist.  He  leaped  up  and  down,  snapping  and 
barking,  but  had  no  more  stomach  for  the  actual 
encounter.  His  noisy  threatenings,  however,  which 
did  violence  to  the  silver  magic  of  the  night,  soon 
brought  no  answer;  and  the  black  and  white  mon- 
grel, barking  in  great  excitement,  rushed  up  to  take 
a  hand  in  the  affray. 

At  the  sight  of  the  quietly  desperate  raccoon  he 
stopped  short.  But  his  hesitation  was  from  discre- 
tion, not  from  cowardice.  He  knew  that  the  raccoon 
could  master  him.  He  took  some  sort  of  swift  coun- 
sel, therefore,  with  the  blustering  setter;  and  then, 
having  apparently  received  assurance  of  support, 
sprang  boldly  on  the  enemy. 

There  was  a  sharp  tussle,  a  confusion  of  snapping, 
snarling,  clawing,  growling,  and  squealing;  while 
the  Irish  setter,  having  reconsidered  his  promise  to 
take  a  hand,  contented  himself  with  barking  brave 
encouragement  from  a  safe  distance.  At  last  the 
black  and  white  mongrel,  finding  that  he  was  getting 
badly  worsted  and  receiving  no  support,  tried  to 


Ube  Xfttle  people  of  tbe  Sycamore   219 

draw  away ;  and  the  raccoon,  fearing  to  be  dragged 
from  her  post  of  vantage  against  the  rock,  at  once 
let  him  go.  Both  combatants  were  breathless  and 
bleeding,  and  they  eyed  each  other  with  the  watch- 
fulness born  of  respect. 

The  little  mongrel  now  seemed  to  hold  a  second 
and  more  elaborate  conference  with  the  Irish  setter. 
Possibly  he  conveyed  his  opinion  of  the  latter's  char- 
acter, for  the  proud-plumed  tail  drooped  discon- 
solately, and  the  loud-mouthed  threatenings  ceased. 
Just  what  new  courage  the  sagacious  mongrel  might 
have  succeeded  in  infusing  into  the  volatile  heart  of 
his  ally,  just  what  plan  of  concerted  action  might 
have  been  evolved,  to  the  ruin  of  the  heroic  little 
fighter  under  the  rock,  will  never  be  known ;  for  at 
this  moment  a  second  and  larger  raccoon  came 
running  swiftly  and  silently  up  the  bank. 

It  was  the  mother  'coon's  mate,  who  Had  heard 
the  noise  of  combat  where  he  was  foraging  by  him- 
self, far  down  the  brook.  At  sight  of  this  most 
timely  reinforcement,  the  beleaguered  raccoon  made 
a  sortie.  Recognizing  the  weak  point  in  the  assail- 
ing forces,  she  darted  straight  upon  the  hesitating 
setter,  and  snapped  at  his  leg. 

This  was  quite  too  much  for  his  jarred  nerves, 
and  with  a  howl,  as  if  he  already  felt  those  white 


22o        tlbe  TKaatcbers  ot  tbe  Urails 

teeth  crunching  to  the  bone,  the  setter  turned  and 
fled.  The  black  and  white  mongrel,  highly  dis- 
gusted, but  realizing  the  hopelessness  of  the  situation, 
turned  and  fled  after  him  in  silence.  Then  the  tri- 
umphant raccoons  touched  noses  in  brief  congratula- 
tion, and  presently  moved  off  to  their  hunting  as  if 
nothing  had  happened.  The  wild  kindred,  as  a 
rule,  maintain  a  poise  which  the  most  extravagant 
adventures  this  side  of  death  seldom  deeply  disturb. 

n. 

Up  to  this  time,  through  the  hungry  weeks  of  late 
winter  and  the  first  thaws,  the  raccoons  in  the  old 
sycamore  had  resisted  the  temptation  of  the  farm- 
er's hen-roosts.  They  knew  that  the  wilderness 
hunting,  though  the  most  difficult,  was  safe,  while 
any  serious  depredations  at  the  farm  would  be  sure 
to  bring  retaliation  from  that  most  crafty  and  dan- 
gerous creature,  man.  Now,  however,  after  the 
fight  with  the  dogs,  a  mixture  of  audacity  with  the 
desire  for  revenge  got  the  better  of  them ;  and  that 
same  night,  very  late,  when  the  moon  was  casting 
long,  sharp  shadows  from  the  very  rim  of  the  hori- 
zon, they  hurried  through  the  belt  of  forest,  which 
separated  their  sycamore  from  the  cleared  fields, 
and  stole  into  the  rear  of  the  barn-yard. 


TTbe  Xittle  people  of  tbe  Sycamore   *« 

The  farm  was  an  outpost,  so  to  speak,  of  the 
settlements,  on  the  debatable  ground  between  the 
forces  of  the  forest  and  the  forces  of  civilization, 
and  therefore  much  exposed  to  attack.  As  the 
raccoons  crept  along  behind  the  wood-shed  they 
smelt  traces  of  a  sickly  pungent  odour,  and  knew 
that  other  marauders  had  been  on  the  ground  not 
very  long  before.  This  made  them  bolder  in  their 
enterprise,  for  they  knew  that  such  depredations 
as  they  might  commit  would  be  laid  to  the  account 
of  the  skunks,  and  therefore  not  likely  to  draw  down 
vengeance  upon  the  den  in  the  sycamore.  They 
killed  a  sitting  hen  upon  her  nest,  feasted  luxuri- 
ously upon  her  eggs  and  as  much  of  herself  as  they 
could  hold,  and  went  away  highly  elated.  For 
three  successive  nights  they  repeated  their  raid  upon 
the  fowl-house,  each  night  smelling  the  pungent, 
choking  scent  more  strongly,  but  never  catching 
a  glimpse  of  the  rival  marauder.  On  the  fourth 
night,  as  they  crossed  the  hillocky  stump-lot  behind 
the  barns,  the  scent  became  overpowering,  and  they 
found  the  body  of  the  skunk,  where  fate  had  over- 
taken him,  lying  beside  the  path.  They  stopped, 
considered,  and  turned  back  to  their  wildwood  forag- 
ing; and  through  all  that  spring  they  went  no 


222        ube  Watcbers  of  tbe  tlrafls 

more  to  the  farmyard,  lest  they  should  call  down 
a  similar  doom  upon  themselves. 

As  spring  ripened  and  turned  to  summer  over  the 
land,  food  grew  abundant  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  sycamore,  and  there  was  no  temptation  to  tres- 
pass on  man's  preserves.  There  were  grouse  nests 
to  rifle,  there  were  squirrels,  hare,  wood-mice,  chip- 
munks, to  exercise  all  the  craft  and  skill  of  the 
raccoons.  Also  there  were  the  occasional  unwary 
trout,  chub,  or  suckers,  to  be  scooped  up  upon  the 
borders  of  the  brook.  And  once,  more  in  hate  than 
in  hunger,  the  old  mother  raccoon  had  the  fierce 
joy  of  eradicating  a  nest  of  weasels,  which  she 
found  in  a  pile  of  rocks.  She  had  a  savage  antipathy 
to  the  weasel  tribe,  whose  blood-lust  menaces  all 
the  lesser  wood-folk,  and  whose  teeth  delight  to 
kill,  after  hunger  is  sated,  for  the  mere  relish  of  a 
taste  of  quivering  brain  or  a  spurt  of  warm  blood. 
The  raccoon  carried  more  scars  from  the  victory 
over  the  weasels  than  she  had  to  remind  her  of  the 
scuffle  with  the  dogs.  But  she  had  the  nerve  that 
takes  punishment  without  complaint,  and  the  scars 
troubled  her  little. 

When  the  five  young  raccoons  came  down  from 
the  sycamore  and  began  to  depend  upon  their  own 
foraging,  it  soon  became  necessary  to  extend  the 


Xittle  people  of  tbe  Sycamore   223 

range,  as  game  grew  shyer  and  more  scarce.  Even 
chub  and  suckers  learn  something  in  course  of  time ; 
and  as  for  wood-mice  and  chipmunks,  under  such 
incentive  as  an  active  family  of  raccoons  can  give 
them  they  attain  to  a  truly  heartless  cunning  in  the 
art  of  making  their  enemies  go  hungry.  Hanging 
together  with  an  intense  clannishness,  the  raccoon 
family  would  make  expeditions  of  such  length  as  to 
keep  often  for  two  or  three  days  at  a  time  away 
from  the  home  in  the  sycamore. 

At  last,  one  night  in  late  summer,  when  the  stars 
seemed  to  hang  low  among  the  warm  and  thick- 
leaved  trees,  and  warm  scents  steamed  up  wherever 
the  dew  was  disturbed  by  furry  feet,  the  raccoons 
wandered  over  to  the  edge  of  the  corn-field.  It 
chanced  that  the  corn  was  just  plumping  to  tender 
and  juicy  fulness.  The  old  raccoons  showed  the 
youngsters  what  richness  of  sweetness  lay  hidden 
within  the  green  wrappings  of  the  ears ;  and  forth- 
with the  whole  clan  fell  to  feasting  recklessly. 

In  regard  to  the  ducks  and  chickens  of  the  farm, 
the  raccoons  were  shrewd  enough  to  know  that  any 
extensive  depredations  upon  them  would  call  down 
the  swift  vengeance  of  the  farmer-folk;  but  they 
could  not  realize  that  they  were  in  mischief  when 
they  helped  themselves  to  these  juicy,  growing 


«4        Ube  Watcbers  of  tbe  Uratls 

things.  The  corn,  though  manifestly  in  some  way 
involved  with  the  works  of  man,  seemed  neverthe- 
less to  them  a  portion  of  nature's  liberality.  They 
ran  riot,  therefore,  through  the  tall,  well-ordered 
ranks  of  green,  without  malice  or  misgiving;  and 
in  their  gaiety  they  were  extravagant.  They  would 
snatch  a  mouthful  out  of  one  sweet  ear,  then  out  of 
another,  spoiling  ten  for  one  that  they  consumed. 
Night  after  night  they  came  to  the  corn-field,  and 
waxed  fat  on  their  plunder,  till  at  last,  when  they 
had  done  the  damage  of  a  herd  of  oxen,  one  silvery 
night  they  were  discovered.  The  young  farmer, 
with  his  hired  boy  and  the  harebrained,  Irish  setter, 
chanced  to  come  by  through  the  woods,  and  to  notice 
that  the  corn  was  moving  although  there  was  no 
wind.  The  raccoons  were  promptly  hunted  out ;  and 
one  of  the  young  ones,  before  they  could  gain  the 
shadowy  refuge  of  the  trees,  was  killed  with  sticks, 
—  the  setter  contributing  much  noise,  but  keeping  at 
a  very  safe  distance.  When  the  affray  was  over, 
and  the  young  farmer,  going  through  the  field, 
found  out  what  damage  had  been  done,  he  was 
eloquent  with  picturesque  backwoods  blasphemies, 
and  vowed  the  extermination  of  the  whole  'coon 
dan.  With  the  aid  of  the  setter,  who  now,  for  the 
first  time,  was  able  to  prove  the  worth  of  his  breed- 


'THEY      RAN      RIOT    .    .    .    THROUGH      THE     TALL,     WELL-ORDERED 
RANKS    OF    GREEN  " 


Ube  Xittle  people  of  tbe  Sycamore   225 

ing,  he  tracked  the  escaping  marauders  through  the 
woods,  and  at  last,  after  a  long  hunt,  located  their 
lair  in  the  old  sycamore-tree  on  the  hill.  At  this 
his  wrath  gave  way  to  the  hunter's  elation.  His 
eyes  sparkled. 

"  To-morrow  night,"  said  he,  to  the  hired  boy, 
"we'll  have  a  reg'lar  old-fashioned  'coon  hunt!" 

Then,  whistling  off  the  setter,  who  was  barking, 
jumping,  and  whining  ecstatically  at  the  foot  of  the 
sycamore-tree,  he  turned  and  strode  away  through 
the  moon-shadows  of  the  forest,  with  the  dog  and 
the  hired  boy  at  his  heels.  The  diminished  raccoon 
family,  with  beating  hearts  and  trembling  nerves, 
snuggled  down  together  into  the  depths  of  the  syca- 
more, and  dreamed  not  of  the  doom  preparing  for 
them. 

ni. 

On  the  following  night,  soon  after  moonrise,  they 
camie.  Stealthily,  though  there  was  little  need  of 
stealth,  they  crept,  Indian  file,  around  the  branchy 
edges  of  the  fields,  through  the  wet,  sweet-smelling 
thickets.  The  hunter's  fever  was  upon  them,  fierce 
and  furtive.  They  came  to  the  corn-field  —  to  find 
that  the  raccoons  had  paid  their  visit,  made  their 
meal,  and  got  away  at  the  first  faint  signal  of  the 


226        ube  TKHatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

approach  of  danger.  With  an  outburst  of  excited 
yelpings,  the  dogs  took  up  the  hot  trail,  and  the 
hunters  made  straight  through  the  woods  for  the 
sycamore-tree. 

It  was  a  party  of  five.  With  the  young  farmer, 
the  hired  boy,  the  harebrained  Irish  setter,  and  the 
wise  little  black  and  white  mongrel,  came  also  the 
young  schoolmaster  of  the  settlement,  who  boarded 
at  the  farm.  A  year  out  of  college,  and  more  en- 
grossed in  the  study  of  the  wild  creatures  than  ever 
he  had  been  in  his  books,  he  had  joined  the  hunt 
less  from  sympathy  than  from  curiosity.  He  had 
outgrown  his  boyhood's  zeal  for  killing  things,  and 
he  had  a  distinct  partiality  for  raccoons ;  but  he  had 
never  taken  part  in  a  'coon  hunt,  and  it  was  his 
way  to  go  thoroughly  into  whatever  he  undertook. 
He  carried  a  little  .22  Winchester  repeater,  which 
he  had  brought  with  him  from  college,  and  had 
employed,  hitherto,  on  nothing  more  sentient  than 
empty  bottles  or  old  tomato-cans. 

Now  it  chanced  that  not  all  the  raccoon  family 
had  made  their  escape  to  the  deep  hole  in  the  syca- 
more. The  old  male,  who  was  rather  solitary 
and  moody  in  his  habits  at  this  season,  had  followed 
the  flight  of  the  clan  for  only  a  short  distance ;  and 
suddenly,  to  their  doubtful  joy  and  complete  sur- 


ttbe  Xittle  people  of  tbe  Sycamore   227 

prise,  the  two  dogs,  who  were  far  ahead  of  the  hunt- 
ers, overtook  him.  After  a  moment's  wise  hesitation, 
the  black  and  white  mongrel  joined  battle,  while 
the  setter  contributed  a  great  deal  of  noisy  encour- 
agement. By  the  time  the  hunters  came  up  the 
mongrel  had  drawn  off,  bleeding  and  badly  worsted ; 
and  the  angry  raccoon,  backed  up  against  a  tree, 
glared  at  the  newcomers  with  fierce  eyes  and  wide- 
open  mouth,  as  if  minded  to  rush  upon  them. 

The  odds,  however,  were  much  too  great  for  even 
so  dauntless  a  soul  as  his ;  and  when  the  enemy  were 
within  some  ten  or  twelve  paces,  he  turned  and  ran 
up  the  tree.  In  the  first  fork  he  crouched,  almost 
hidden,  and  peered  down  with  one  watchful  eye. 

The  young  farmer  was  armed  with  an  old,  muzzle- 
loading,  single-barrelled  duck-gun.  He  raised  it  to 
his  shoulder  and  took  aim  at  the  one  bright  eye 
gleaming  from  behind  the  branch.  Then  he  lowered 
it,  and  turned  to  his  boarder  with  a  mixture  of 
politeness  and  rustic  mockery. 

"  Your  first  shot !  "  said  he.  "  I'll  shoot  the 
critter,  after  you've  tried  that  there  pea-shooter  on 
him!" 

"  He's  licked  the  dogs  in  fair  fight,"  said  the 
schoolmaster.  "  Let's  let  him  off!  " 


228        'Cbe  THflatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

The  farmer  swore  in  unaffected  amazement. 

"  Why,  that's  the that  does  more  damage 

than  all  the  rest  put  together ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"  You'll  see  me  fix  him.  But  you  take  first  shot, 
Mister  Chase.  I  want  to  see  the  pea-shooter  work !  " 

The  young  schoolmaster  saw  his  prestige  threat- 
ened, —  and  with  no  profit  whatever  to  the  doomed 
raccoon.  Prestige  is  nowhere  held  at  higher  pre- 
mium than  in  the  backwoods.  It  is  the  magic  wand 
of  power.  The  young  man  fired,  a  quick,  but  care- 
ful shot;  and  on  the  snappy,  insignificant  report, 
the  raccoon  fell  dead  from  the  tree. 

"  You  kin  shoot  some !  "  remarked  the  farmer, 
picking  up  the  victim,  and  noting  the  bullet-hole 
in  its  forehead.  And  the  hired  boy  spread  his  mouth 
in  a  huge,  broken-toothed  grin  of  admiration. 

The  old  sycamore  stood  out  lonely  in  the  flood  of 
the  moonlight.  Not  a  raccoon  was  in  sight ;  but  the 
round,  black  doorway  to  their  den  was  visible  against 
the  gray  bark,  beside  the  crotch  of  the  one  great 
limb.  The  frantic  yelpings  of  the  dogs  around  the 
foot  of  the  tree  were  proof  enough  that  the  family 
were  at  home.  The  hunters,  after  the  ancient  custom 
of  men  that  hunt  'coons,  had  brought  an  axe  with 
them;  but  the  hired  boy,  who  carried  it,  looked 
with  dismay  at  the  huge  girth  of  the  sycamore. 


Xittle  people  of  tbe  Sycamore   229 

"  Won't  git  that  chopped  down  in  a  week !  "  said 
he,  with  pardonable  depreciation  of  his  powers. 

"  Go  fetch  another  axe!  "  commanded  the  farmer, 
seating  himself  on  a  stump,  and  getting  out  his  pipe. 

"  It  would  be  a  pity  to  cut  down  that  tree,  the 
biggest  sycamore  in  the  country,  just  to  get  at  a 
'coon's  nest !  "  said  the  young  schoolmaster,  willing 
to  spare  both  the  tree  and  its  inhabitants. 

The  farmer  let  his  match  go  out  while  he  eyed  the 
great  trunk. 

"  Never  mind  the  axe,"  said  he,  calling  back  the 
hired  boy.  "  Fetch  me  the  new  bindin'  rope  out  of 
the  spare  manger;  an'  a  bunch  of  rags,  an'  some 
salmon-twine.  An*  stir  yerself !  " 

Relieved  of  his  anxiety  as  to  the  chopping,  the 
boy  sped  willingly  on  his  errand.  And  the  young 
schoolmaster  realized,  with  a  little  twinge  of  regret, 
that  the  raccoon  family  was  doomed. 

When  the  boy  came  back,  the  farmer  took  the 
bunch  of  rags,  smeared  them  liberally  with  wet  gun- 
powder, and  tied  them  into  a  loose,  fluffy  ball,  on  the 
end  of  a  length  of  salmon-twine.  Then,  having 
thrown  the  rope  over  the  limb  of  the  sycamore,  he 
held  both  ends,  and  sent  the  hired  boy  up  into  the 
tree,  where  he  sat  astride,  grinning  and  expectant, 
and  peered  into  the  well-worn  hole. 


230        Ube  TOlatcbera  ot  tbe  Urails 

"  Now,"  said  the  farmer,  tossing  the  ball  of  rags 
up  to  him,  "  light  this  'ere  spittin'  devil,  an'  lower 
it  into  the  hole,  an'  we'll  see  what's  what ! " 

As  he  spoke,  he  turned,  and  gave  the  schoolmaster 
a  slow  wink,  which  quickened  the  latter's  expecta- 
tions. The  next  moment  the  boy  had  set  a  match 
to  the  rags,  and  they  were  ablaze  with  wild  sputter- 
ings  and  jets  of  red  flame.  Eagerly,  but  carefully, 
he  lowered  the  fiery  ball  into  the  hole,  paying  out  the 
string  till  it  was  evident  that  the  tree  was  hollow 
almost  down  to  the  butt. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  wild  commotion  of  squeals, 
grunts,  and  scratchings  in  the  depths  of  the  invaded 
hole.  The  sounds  rose  swiftly  up  the  inside  of  the 
trunk.  Then  there  was  an  eruption  at  the  mouth 
of  the  hole.  A  confusion  of  furry  forms  shot  forth, 
with  such  violence  that  the  startled  boy  almost  lost 
his  balance.  As  it  was,  he  backed  away  precipitately 
along  the  branch,  amid  derisive  encouragement  from 
his  friends  below. 

Having  eluded,  for  the  moment,  the  flaming  in- 
vader of  their  home,  the  raccoons  paused  on  the  limb 
to  survey  the  situation. 

"Fling  'em  down  to  us,"  jeered  the  farmer, 
hugely  amused  at  the  boy's  dismay. 

The  latter  grinned  nervously,  and  started  forward 


Xtttte  {people  ot  tbe  Sycamore   231 

as  if  to  obey.  But  at  this  moment  the  raccoons  made 
their  decision.  The  dogs  and  men  below  looked 
more  formidable  than  the  hesitating  boy  astride  of 
their  branch.  In  a  resolute  line,  their  fierce  old 
mother  leading,  they  made  for  him. 

The  boy  backed  away  with  awkward  alacrity,  but 
still  keeping  his  hold  on  the  salmon-twine.  Con- 
sequently, by  the  time  he  had  nearly  reached  the  end 
of  the  limb,  the  still  sputtering  fire-ball  emerged 
from  the  hole  in  the  crotch.  At  the  sound  of  it  be- 
hind them  the  young  raccoons  turned  in  terror,  and 
straightway  dropped  from  the  tree;  but  the  old 
mother,  undaunted,  darted  savagely  upon  her  foe. 
The  boy  gave  a  cry  of  fear.  The  next  instant  there 
was  a  spiteful  crack  from  the  schoolmaster's  little 
rifle.  The  old  raccoon  stopped,  shrank,  and  rolled 
lifeless  from  the  limb. 

Meanwhile,  the  youngsters  were  in  a  melee  with 
the  two  dogs.  Though  little  more  than  three-fourths 
grown,  they  had  courage ;  and  so  brave  a  front  did 
they  oppose  to  their  enemies  that  for  a  few  moments 
the  dogs  were  cautious  in  attack.  Then  the  black 
and  white  mongrel  sprang  in;  and  the  big  setter, 
realizing  that  these  were  no  such  antagonists  as 
their  parents  had  been,  followed,  and  was  astonished 
to  learn  that  he  could  stand  a  bite  from  those  sharp 


232        tTbe  Hfflatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

teeth  and  resist  the  impulse  to  howl  and  run  away. 
In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  describe,  one  of  the  rac- 
coons was  shaken  to  death  in  the  setter's  great  jaws, 
and  then  the  other  three  scattered  in  flight. 

One  was  overtaken  in  two  seconds  by  the  black 
and  white  mongrel,  and  bitten  through  the  back. 
The  second  ran  past  the  farmer,  and  was  killed  by 
a  quick  blow  with  his  gun-barrel.  The  third,  full 
of  courage  and  resource,  flew  straight  at  the  setter's 
throat,  and  so  alarmed  him  that  he  jumped  away. 
Then,  seeing  no  tree  within  reach,  and  probably 
realizing  that  there  was  no  escape  by  any  ordinary- 
course,  he  fled  straight  to  the  farmer. 

The  farmer,  however,  mistook  this  action  for  the 
ferocity  of  despair.  He  struck  out  with  his  gun- 
barrel,  missed  his  aim,  swore  apprehensively,  and 
caught  the  little  animal  a  kick,  which  landed  it  within 
a  couple  of  yards  of  the  spot  where  stood  the  young 
schoolmaster,  watching  the  scene  with  mingled  in- 
terest and  pity.  His  sympathies  now  went  out 
warmly  to  this  brave  and  sole  survivor  of  the  little 
people  of  the  sycamore.  His  quick  intuitions  had 
understood  the  appeal  which  had  been  so  cruelly 
repulsed. 

For  a  second  the  young  raccoon  stood  still  where 
he  had  fallen,  and  his  keen,  dark  eyes  flashed  a 


TTbe  Xittle  IPcople  of  tbe  Sycamore   233 

glance  on  each  of  his  enemies  in  turn.  Both  dogs 
were  now  rushing  upon  him.  The  ever-imminent 
doom  of  the  wild  kindred  was  about  to  lay  hold 
of  him.  He  half-turned,  as  if  to  die  fighting,  then 
changed  his  mind,  darted  to  the  feet  of  the  young 
schoolmaster,  ran  up  his  trouser-leg,  and  confidently 
took  refuge  under  his  coat. 

"  Shake  him  off!  Shake  him  off!  A  'coon's  bite 
is  pizen !  "  shouted  the  farmer,  in  great  excitement. 

"  Not  much !  "  said  the  young  schoolmaster,  with 
decision,  gathering  his  coat  snugly  around  his  pant- 
ing guest.  "  This  'coon  hunt's  over.  This  little 
chap's  coming  home  to  live  with  me !  " 

The  farmer  stared,  and  then  laughed  good- 
naturedly. 

"  Jest  as  you  say,"  said  he.  "  Recken  ye've  'arned 
the  right  to  have  a  say  in  the  matter.  But  ye'll  find 
'coons  is  mighty  mischeevous  'round  a  house. 
Fetch  the  karkisses,  Jake.  Reckon  we've  done 
pretty  well  for  one  night's  huntin',  an'  there  ain't 
goin'  to  be  no  more  'coons  messin'  in  the  corn  this 
summer ! " 

In  a  few  minutes  the  procession  was  again  plod- 
ding, Indian  file,  through  the  still,  dew-fragrant, 
midnight  woods.  The  little  raccoon,  its  heart  now 
beating  quietly,  nestled  in  secure  contentment  under 


234        Ube  TRflatcbers  ot  tbc  trails 

the  young  schoolmaster's  arm,  untroubled  even  by 
the  solemn  and  deep-toned  menace  of  a  horned-owl's 
cry  from  the  spiky  top  of  a  dead  hemlock  near  at 
hand.  From  the  lake  behind  the  hill  came  the  long 
laughter  of  a  loon,  the  wildest  and  saddest  of  all 
the  wilderness  voices.  And  a  lonely  silence  settled 
down  about  the  old  sycamore  on  the  hill,  solitary 
under  the  white,  high-sailing  moon. 


tK?rn0  ant)  antlers 


Iborne  anfc  Hntlers 

HE  young  red  and  white  bull  was  very 
angry.  He  stood  by  the  pasture  bars 
grumbling,  and  blowing  through  his  nos- 
trils, and  shaking  his  short,  straight  horns,  and 
glaring  fiercely  after  the  man,  who  was  driving 
three  cows  down  the  hill  to  the  farmyard  in  the 
shadowy  valley.  Every  evening  for  weeks  the 
man  had  come  about  sunset  and  taken  away  the 
cows  in  that  fashion,  rudely  suppressing  the  young 
bull's  efforts  to  accompany  his  herd,  and  leaving 
him  to  the  sole  companionship  of  two  silly  and  calf- 
like  yearlings  whom  he  scorned  to  notice.  For  the 
past  few  evenings  the  bull  had  been  trying  to  work 
himself  up  to  the  point  of  fairly  joining  issue  with 
the  man,  and  having  it  out  with  him.  But  there  was 
something  in  the  man's  cool  assurance,  in  his  steady, 
compelling  eye,  in  the  abrupt  authority  of  his  voice, 
which  made  the  angry  animal  hesitate  to  defy  him. 
Certainly  the  bull  could  see  that  the  man  was  very 
much  smaller  than  he,  —  a  pigmy,  indeed,  in  com- 
237 


238        ftbe  Tldatcbers  of  tbe  ttratls 

parison;  but  he  felt  that  within  that  erect  and 
fragile-looking  shape  there  dwelt  an  unknown  force 
which  no  four-footed  beast  could  ever  hope  to  with- 
stand. Every  evening,  after  the  man  and  cows 
had  gone  half-way  down  the  hillside,  the  bull  would 
fall  to  bellowing  and  pawing  the  ground,  and  roll- 
ing his  defiance  across  the  quiet  valley.  But  when 
next  the  man  came  face  to  face  with  him,  and  spoke 
to  him,  he  would  assume,  in  spite  of  himself,  an 
attitude  of  lofty  and  reluctant  deference. 

The  high  hill  pasture,  with  its  decaying  stumps, 
its  rounded  hillocks,  its  patches  of  withering  fern 
and  harsh  dwarf  juniper,  was  bathed  in  all  the 
colours  of  the  autumn  sunset,  while  the  farmyard 
down  in  the  valley  was  already  in  the  first  purple 
of  the  twilight.  The  centre  of  the  pasture  was  the 
hilltop,  roughly  rounded,  and  naked  save  for  one 
maple-tree,  now  ablaze  with  scarlet  and  amber. 
Along  the  line  of  hills  across  the  dusk  valley  the  last 
of  the  sunset  laid  a  band  of  clear  orange,  which 
faded  softly  through  lemon  and  pink  and  violet  and 
tender  green  to  the  high,  cold  gray-blue  of  the  dome 
above  the  hill,  where  one  crow  was  beating  his  way 
toward  the  tree-tops  on  the  farther  ridge.  The 
tranquillity  of  the  scene  was  curiously  at  variance 
with  the  loud  vapourings  of  the  bull,  as  he  raged 


t>orns  ant>  Hntlers  239 

up  and  down  behind  the  bars,  watched  tremblingly 
by  the  pair  of  awestruck  yearlings. 

Over  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill,  behind  the 
red  maple,  where  the  hillocks  and  fern  patches  lay 
already  in  a  cool,  violet-brown  shadow,  stood  a 
high-antlered  red  buck,  listening  to  the  bull's  rav- 
ings. He  had  just  come  out  of  the  woods  and  up 
to  the  snake  fence  of  split  rails  which  bounded  the 
pasture.  With  some  curiosity,  not  unmixed  with 
scorn,  he  had  sniffed  at  the  fence,  a  phenomenon 
with  which  he  was  unfamiliar.  But  the  voice  of 
the  bull  had  promptly  absorbed  his  attention.  There 
was  something  in  the  voice  that  irritated  him,  — 
which  seemed,  though  in  a  language  he  did  not 
know,  to  convey  a  taunt  and  a  challenge.  His  fine, 
slim  head  went  high.  He  snorted  several  times, 
stamped  his  delicate  hoofs,  then  bounded  lightly 
over  the  fence  and  trotted  up  the  slope  toward 
the  shining  maple. 

For  most  of  the  greater  members  of  the  wild 
kindred,  —  and  for  the  tribes  of  the  deer  and  moose, 
in  particular,  —  the  month  of  October  is  the  month 
of  love  and  war.  Under  those  tender  and  enchant- 
ing skies,  amid  the  dying  crimsons  and  purples 
and  yellows  and  russets,  and  in  the  wistfulness  of 
the  falling  leaf,  duels  are  fought  to  the  death  in 


24°        Ube  Watcbers  of  tbe  Uratls 

the  forest  aisles  and  high  hill  glades.  When  a 
sting  and  a  tang  strike  across  the  dreamy  air,  and 
the  frosts  nip  crisply,  then  the  blood  runs  hot  in 
the  veins  and  mating-time  stirs  up  both  love  and 
hate.  The  red  buck,  as  it  happened,  had  been  some- 
thing of  a  laggard  in  awakening  to  the  season's 
summons.  His  antlers,  this  year,  had  been  late  to 
mature  and  overlong  in  the  velvet.  When  he  en- 
tered the  field,  therefore,  he  found  that  other  bucks 
had  been  ahead  of  him,  and  that  there  were  no 
more  does  wandering  forlorn.  He  had  "  belled  " 
in  vain  for  several  days,  searched  in  vain  the  limits 
of  his  wonted  range,  and  at  last  set  out  in  quest 
of  some  little  herd  whose  leader  his  superior  strength 
might  beat  down  and  supplant.  Of  his  own  prowess, 
his  power  to  supplant  all  rivals,  he  had  no  doubt. 
But  hitherto  he  had  found  none  to  answer  his  chal- 
lenge, and  his  humour  was  testy.  He  had  no  idea 
what  sort  of  an  animal  it  was  that  was  making 
such  objectionable  noises  on  the  other  side  of  the 
hill;  but  whatever  it  might  be,  he  did  not  like  it. 
He  knew  it  was  not  a  bear.  He  knew  it  was  not 
a  bull-moose.  And  of  nothing  else  that  walked  the 
forest  did  he  stand  in  deference,  when  the  courage 
of  rutting-time  was  upon  him. 

Stepping  daintily,  the  red  buck  reached  the  top 


t>orns  an&  Bntlers  241 

of  the  hill  and  saw  the  bull  below  him.  A  formid- 
able antagonist,  surely!  The  buck  stopped  where 
he  was.  He  had  now  less  inclination  to  pick  a 
quarrel ;  but  he  was  consumed  with  curiosity. 
What  could  the  heavy  red  and  white  beast  be  up 
to,  with  his  grunting  and  bellowing,  his  pawings 
of  the  sod,  and  his  rampings  to  and  fro?  The  buck 
could  see  no  object  for  such  defiance,  no  purpose 
to  such  rage.  It  was  plain  to  him,  however,  that 
those  two  odd-looking,  rather  attractive  little  ani- 
mals, who  stood  aside  and  watched  the  bull's  rant- 
ings,  were  in  no  way  the  cause  or  object,  as  the 
bull  completely  ignored  them.  Growing  more  and 
more  inquisitive  as  he  gazed,  the  buck  took  a  few 
steps  down  the  slope,  and  again  paused  to  inves- 
tigate. 

At  this  point  the  bull  caught  sight  of  the  intruder, 
and  wheeled  sharply.  His  half-artificial  rage  against 
the  man  was  promptly  forgotten.  Who  was  this 
daring  trespasser,  advancing  undismayed  into  the 
very  heart  of  his  domain  ?  He  stared  for  a  moment 
or  two  in  silence,  lashing  his  tail  wrathfully.  Then, 
with  a  rumbling  bellow  deep  in  his  throat,  he  low- 
ered his  head  and  charged. 

This  was  a  demonstration  which  the  red  buck 
could  very  well  understand,  but  his  ill-humour  had 


242        Ube  "Wlatcbers  of  tbe  ttrafte 

been  swallowed  up  in  curiosity,  and  he  was  not 
now  so  ready  to  fight.  In  fact,  it  was  with  large 
apprehension  that  he  saw  that  dangerous  bulk 
charging  upon  him,  and  his  great,  liquid  eyes  opened 
wide.  He  stood  his  ground,  however,  till  the  bull 
was  almost  upon  him,  and  then  bounded  lightly 
aside. 

The  bull,  infuriated  at  this  easy  evasion,  almost 
threw  himself  in  his  effort  to  stop  and  turn  quickly ; 
and  in  a  few  seconds  he  charged  again.  This  time 
the  charge  was  down-hill,  which  doubled  its  speed 
and  resistlessness.  But  again  the  buck  sprang  aside, 
and  the  bull  thundered  on  for  a  score  of  yards, 
ploughing  up  the  turf  in  the  fierce  effort  to  stop 
himself. 

And  now  the  big,  wondering  eyes  of  the  buck 
changed.  A  glitter  came  into  them.  It  had  an- 
gered him  to  be  so  hustled.  And  moreover,  the 
ponderous  clumsiness  of  the  bull  filled  him  with 
contempt.  When  the  bull  charged  him  for  the  third 
time,  he  stamped  his  narrow,  sharp  hoofs  in  de- 
fiance, and  stood  with  antlers  down.  At  the  last 
moment  he  jumped  aside  no  farther  than  was  ab- 
solutely necessary,  and  plowed  a  red  furrow  in 
the  bull's  flank  as  he  plunged  by. 

Beside  himself  with  rage,  the  bull  changed  his 


•'THIS    TIME    THE    CHARGE    WAS    DOWN  -  HILL 


t>orns  an&  Hntlers  243 

tactics,  trying  short,  close  rushes  and  side  lunges 
with  his  horns.  But  the  buck,  thoroughly  aroused, 
and  elated  with  the  joy  of  battle,  was  always  just 
beyond  his  reach,  and  always  punishing  him.  Be- 
fore the  fight  had  lasted  ten  minutes,  his  flanks  and 
neck  were  streaming  with  blood. 

With  his  matchless  agility,  the  buck  more  than 
once  sprang  right  over  his  enemy's  back.  It  was 
impossible  for  the  bull  to  catch  him.  Sometimes, 
instead  of  ripping  with  the  antlers,  he  would  rear 
straight  up,  and  slash  the  bull  mercilessly  with 
his  knifelike  hoofs.  For  a  time,  the  bull  doggedly 
maintained  the  unequal  struggle;  but  at  length, 
feeling  himself  grow  tired,  and  realizing  that  his 
foe  was  as  elusive  as  a  shadow,  he  lost  heart  and 
tried  to  withdraw.  But  the  buck's  blood  was  up, 
and  he  would  have  no  withdrawing.  He  followed 
relentlessly,  bounding  and  goring  and  slashing,  till 
the  helpless  bull  was  seized  with  panic,  and  ran 
bellowing  along  the  fence,  looking  vainly  for  an 
exit. 

For  perhaps  a  hundred  yards  the  conquering 
buck  pursued,  now  half  in  malice,  half  in  sport, 
but  always  punishing,  punishing.  Then,  suddenly 
growing  tired  of  it,  he  stopped,  and  went  daintily 
mincing  his  steps  back  to  where  the  two  yearlings 


244        Ube  Watcbers  of  tbe  TTrails 

stood  huddled  in  awe.  They  shrank,  staring  wildly, 
as  he  approached,  but  for  some  reason  did  not  run 
away.  Sniffing  at  them  curiously,  and  not  finding 
their  scent  to  his  taste,  he  lifted  his  slim  muzzle, 
and  "  belled "  sonorously  several  times,  pausing 
between  the  calls  to  listen  for  an  answer  from 
the  forest.  Then,  receiving  no  reply,  he  seemed 
to  remember  his  interrupted  quest,  and  moved  off 
over  the  hill  through  the  fading  light. 


f  n  tbe  Deep  of  tbe  <3ra0s 


flit  tfoe  Deep  of  tbe  (Brass 

;ISTY  gray  green,  washed  with  tints  of 
the  palest  violet,  spotted  with  red  clover- 
blooms,  white  oxeyes,  and  hot  orange 
Canada  lilies,  the  deep-grassed  levels  basked  under 
the  July  sun.  A  drowsy  hum  of  bees  and  flies 
seemed  to  distil,  with  warm  aromatic  scents,  from 
the  sun-steeped  blooms  and  grass-tops.  The  broad, 
blooming,  tranquil  expanse,  shimmering  and  softly 
radiant  in  the  heat,  seemed  the  very  epitome  of 
summer.  Now  and  again  a  small  cloud-shadow 
sailed  across  it.  Now  and  again  a  little  wind, 
swooping  down  upon  it  gently,  bent  the  grass-tops 
all  one  way,  and  spread  a  sudden  silvery  pallor. 
Save  for  the  droning  bees  and  flies  there  seemed 
to  be  but  one  live  creature  astir  between  the  grass 
and  the  blue.  A  solitary  marsh-hawk,  far  over  by 
the  rail  fence,  was  winnowing  slowly,  slowly  hither 
and  thither,  lazily  hunting. 

All  this  was  in  the  world  above  the  grass-tops. 
But  below  the  grass-tops  was  a  very  different  world, 

•47 


248        tlbe  Watcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

—  a  dense,  tangled  world  of  dim  green  shade,  shot 
with  piercing  shafts  of  sun,  and  populous  with 
small,  furtive  life.  Here,  among  the  brown  and 
White  roots,  the  crowded  green  stems  and  the 
mottled  stalks,  the  little  earth  kindreds  went  busily 
about  their  affairs  and  their  desires,  giving  scant 
thought  to  the  aerial  world  above  them.  All  that 
made  life  significant  to  them  was  here  in  the  warm, 
green  gloom;  and  when  anything  chanced  to  part 
the  grass  to  its  depths  they  would  scurry  away  in 
unanimous  indignation. 

On  a  small  stone,  over  which  the  green  closed 
so  thickly  that,  when  he  chanced  to  look  upward, 
he  caught  but  the  scantiest  shreds  of  sky,  sat  a 
half-grown  field-mouse,  washing  his  whiskers  with 
his  dainty  claws.  His  tiny,  bead-like  eyes  kept 
ceaseless  watch,  peering  through  the  shadowy  tan- 
gle for  whatever  might  come  near  in  the  shape  of 
foe  or  prey.  Presently  two  or  three  stems  above 
his  head  were  beaten  down,  and  a  big  green  grass- 
hopper, alighting  clumsily  from  one  of  his  blind 
leaps,  fell  sprawling  on  the  stone.  Before  he  could 
struggle  to  his  long  legs  and  climb  back  to  the  safer 
region  of  the  grass-tops,  the  little  mouse  was  upon 
him.  Sharp,  white  teeth  pierced  his  green  mail, 
his  legs  kicked  convulsively  twice  or  thrice,  and 


In  tbe  S>eep  ot  tbc  (Brass          349 

the  faint  iridescence  faded  out  of  his  big,  blank, 
foolish  eyes.  The  mouse  made  his  meal  with  relish, 
daintily  discarding  the  dry  legs  and  wing-cases. 
Then,  amid  the  green  debris  scattered  upon  the 
stone,  he  sat  up,  and  once  more  went  through  his 
fastidious  toilet. 

But  life  for  the  little  mouse  in  his  grass-world 
was  not  quite  all  watching  and  hunting.  When  his 
toilet  was  complete,  and  he  had  amiably  let  a  large 
black  cricket  crawl  by  unmolested,  he  suddenly 
began  to  whirl  round  and  round  on  the  stone,  chas- 
ing his  own  tail.  As  he  was  amusing  himself  with 
this  foolish  play,  another  mouse,  about  the  same 
size  as  himself,  and  probably  of  the  same  litter, 
jumped  upon  the  stone,  and  knocked  him  off.  He 
promptly  retorted  in  kind ;  and  for  several  minutes, 
as  if  the  game  were  a  well-understood  one,  the  two 
kept  it  up,  squeaking  soft  merriment,  and  apparently 
forgetful  of  all  peril.  The  grass-tops  above  this 
play  rocked  and  rustled  in  a  way  that  would  cer- 
tainly have  attracted  attention  had  there  been  any 
eyes  to  see.  But  the  marsh-hawk  was  still  hunt- 
ing lazily  at  the  other  side  of  the  field,  and  no 
tragedy  followed  the  childishness. 

Both  seemed  to  tire  of  the  sport  at  the  same 
instant;  for  suddenly  they  stopped,  and  hurried 


250        TTbe  Tfdatcbers  ot  tbe  Uratls 

away  through  the  grass  on  opposite  sides  of  the 
stone,  as  if  remembered  business  had  just  called 
to  them.  Whatever  the  business  was,  the  first 
mouse  seemed  to  forget  it  very  speedily,  for  in 
half  a  minute  he  was  back  upon  the  stone  again, 
combing  his  fine  whiskers  and  scratching  his  ears. 
This  done  to  his  satisfaction,  he  dropped  like  a  flash 
from  his  seat,  and  disappeared  into  a  small  hollow 
beneath  it.  As  he  did  so,  a  hairy  black  spider  darted 
out,  and  ran  away  among  the  roots. 

A  minute  or  two  after  the  disappearance  of  the 
mouse,  a  creature  came  along  which  appeared  gi- 
gantic in  the  diminutive  world  of  the  grass  folk. 
It  was  nearly  three  feet  long,  and  of  the  thickness 
of  a  man's  finger.  Of  a  steely  gray  black,  striped 
and  reticulated  in  a  mysterious  pattern  with  a  clear 
whitish  yellow,  it  was  an  ominous  shape  indeed, 
as  it  glided  smoothly  and  swiftly,  in  graceful  curves, 
through  the  close  green  tangle.  The  cool  shadows 
and  thin  lights  touched  it  flickeringly  as  it  went, 
and  never  a  grass-top  stirred  to  mark  its  sinister 
approach.  Without  a  sound  of  warning  it  came 
straight  up  to  the  stone,  and  darted  its  narrow, 
cruel  head  into  the  hole. 

There  was  a  sharp  squeak,  and  instantly  the 
narrow  head  came  out  again,  ejected  by  the  force 


fn  tbe  H>eep  of  tbe  <3rass          251 

of  the  mouse's  agonized  spring.  But  the  snake's 
teeth  were  fastened  in  the  little  animal's  neck.  The 
doom  of  the  green  world  had  come  upon  him  while 
he  slept. 

But  doomed  though  he  was,  the  mouse  was  game. 
He  knew  there  was  no  poison  in  those  fangs  that 
gripped  him,  and  he  struggled  desperately  to  break 
free.  His  powerful  hind  legs  kicked  the  ground 
with  a  force  which  the  snake,  hampered  at  first 
by  the  fact  of  its  length  being  partly  trailed  out 
through  the  tangle,  was  unable  to  quite  control. 
With  unerring  instinct,  —  though  this  was  the  first 
snake  he  had  ever  encountered,  —  the  mouse  strove 
to  reach  its  enemy's  back  and  sever  the  bone  with 
the  fine  chisels  of  his  teeth.  But  it  was  just  this 
that  the  snake  was  watchful  to  prevent.  Three 
times  in  his  convulsive  leaps  the  mouse  succeeded 
in  touching  the  snake's  body,  —  but  with  his  feet 
only,  never  once  with  those  destructive  little  teeth. 
The  snake  held  him  inexorably,  with  a  steady,  elas- 
tic pressure  which  yielded  just  so  far,  and  never 
quite  far  enough.  And  in  a  minute  or  two  the 
mouse's  brave  struggles  grew  more  feeble. 

All  this,  however,  —  the  lashing  and  the  wrig- 
gling and  the  jumping,  —  had  not  gone  on  without 
much  disturbance  to  the  grass-tops.  Timothy  head 


252        ttbe  Watcbers  of  tbe  trails 

and  clover-bloom,  oxeye  and  feathery  plume-grass, 
they  had  bowed  and  swayed  and  shivered  till  the 
commotion,  very  conspicuous  to  one  looking  down 
upon  the  tranquil,  flowery  sea  of  green,  caught  the 
attention  of  the  marsh-hawk,  which  at  that  moment 
chanced  to  be  perching  on  a  high  fence  stake.  The 
lean-headed,  fierce-eyed,  trim-feathered  bird  shot 
from  his  perch,  and  sailed  on  long  wings  over  the 
grass  to  see  what  was  happening.  As  the  swift 
shadow  hovered  over  the  grass-tops,  the  snake 
looked  up.  Well  he  understood  the  significance 
of  that  sudden  shade.  Jerking  back  his  fangs  with 
difficulty  from  the  mouse's  neck,  he  started  to  glide 
off  under  the  thickest  matting  of  the  roots.  But 
lightning  quick  though  he  was,  he  was  not  quite 
quick  enough.  Just  as  his  narrow  head  darted 
under  the  roots,  the  hawk,  with  wings  held  straight 
up,  and  talons  reaching  down,  dropped  upon  him, 
and  clutched  the  middle  of  his  back  in  a  grip  of 
steel.  The  next  moment  he  was  jerked  into  the 
air,  writhing  and  coiling,  and  striking  in  vain  frenzy 
at  his  captor's  mail  of  hard  feathers.  The  hawk 
flew  off  with  him  over  the  sea  of  green  to  the  top 
of  the  fence  stake,  there  to  devour  him  at  leisure. 
The  mouse,  sore  wounded  but  not  past  recovery, 


In  tbe  Deep  ot  tbe  (Srass          253 

dragged  himself  back  to  the  hollow  under  the  stone. 
And  over  the  stone  the  'grass-tops,  once  more  still, 
hummed  with  flies,  and  breathed  warm  perfumes 
in  the  distilling  heat. 


TOben  tbe  flDoon  Us  over  tbe  Corn 


IPdlben  tbe  flDoon  10  over  tbe  Corn 

i  N  the  mystical  transparency  of  the  moon- 
light the  leafy  world  seemed  all  afloat. 
The  solid  ground,  the  trees,  the  rail  fences, 
the  serried  ranks  of  silver-washed  corn  seemed  to 
have  lost  all  substantial  foundation.  Everything  lay 
swimming,  as  it  were,  upon  a  dream.  The  light  that 
poured  down  from  the  round,  gt>ld-white,  high- 
sailing  moon  was  not  ordinary  moonlight,  but  that 
liquid  enchantment  which  the  sorceress  of  the 
heavens  sheds  at  times,  and  notably  at  the  ripe  of 
the  summer,  lest  earth  should  forget  the  incompre- 
hensibility of  beauty.  A  little  to  one  side,  beyond 
the  corn-field  and  over  a  billowy  mass  of  silvered 
leafage,  stood  the  gray,  clustered  roofs  of  a  back- 
woods farmstead. 

In  the  top  of  a  tall,  slim  poplar,  leaning  out 
from  the  edge  of  the  woods  and  over  the  fence 
that  marked  the  bounds  of  the  wilderness,  clung 
a  queer-looking,  roundish  object,  gently  swaying 
in  the  magic  light.  It  might  almost  have  been 
257 


Watcbers  of  tbe  trails 

mistaken  for  a  huge,  bristly  bird's-nest,  but  for 
the  squeaky  grunts  of  satisfaction  which  it  kept 
emitting  at  intervals.  Whether  it  was  that  the 
magic  of  the  moonlight  had  got  into  its  blood,  driv- 
ing it  to  strange  pastimes,  or  that  it  was  merely 
indulging  an  established  taste  for  the  game  of 
"  Rock-a-bye-baby,"  observation  made  it  plain  that 
the  porcupine  was  amusing  itself  by  swinging  in 
the  tree-top.  Any  other  of  the  woods  folk  would 
have  chosen  for  their  recreation  a  less  conspicuous 
spot  than  this  poplar-top  thrust  out  over  the  open 
field.  But  the  porcupine  feared  nobody,  and  was 
quite  untroubled  by  bash  fulness.  He  cared  not  a 
jot  who  heard,  saw,  or  derided  him.  It  was 
a  pleasant  world;  and  for  all  that  had  ever  been 
shown  him  to  the  contrary,  it  belonged  to  him. 
After  a  time  he  got  tired  of  swinging  and  squeak- 
ing. He  straightened  himself  out,  slowly  descended 
the  tree,  and  set  off  along  the  top  of  the  fence 
toward  the  farmyard.  Never  before  had  it  oc- 
curred to  him  to  visit  the  farmyard;  but  now 
that  the  moon  had  put  the  madness  into  his  head, 
he  acted  upon  the  whim  without  a  moment's  mis- 
giving. Unlike  the  rest  of  the  wild  kindreds,  he 
stood  little  in  awe  of  either  the  works  or  the  ways 
of  man. 


"  SET  OFF  ALONG  THE  TOP  OF  THE  FENCE.' 


"CClben  tbe  flDoon  fls  over  tbe  Corn  259 

Presently  the  fence  turned  off  at  a  sharp  angle 
to  the  way  he  had  chosen  to  go.  He  descended, 
and  crawled  in  leisurely  fashion  along  an  unused, 
grassy  lane,  wandering  from  side  to  side  as  he 
went,  as  if  time  were  of  no  concern  to  him.  About 
a  hundred  feet  from  the  fence  he  came  to  a  brook 
crossing  the  lane.  Spring  freshets  had  carried 
away  the  little  bridge,  doubtless  years  before,  and 
now  the  stream  was  spanned  by  nothing  but  an 
old  tree-trunk,  carelessly  thrown  across.  Upon  the 
end  of  this,  —  for  him  an  ample  bridge,  —  the  por- 
cupine crawled,  never  troubling  himself  to  inquire 
if  another  passenger  might  chance  to  be  crossing 
from  the  other  side. 

At  the  very  same  moment,  indeed,  another  pas- 
senger raised  furtive,  padded  paws,  and  took 
possession  of  the  opposite  end  of  the  bridge.  It 
was  a  huge  bob-cat,  with  stubby  tail  and  wide, 
pale  green,  unwinking  eyes.  It  had  come  steal- 
ing down  from  the  thick  woods  to  visit  the  farm- 
yard,—  driven,  perhaps,  by  the  same  moon-mad- 
ness that  stirred  the  porcupine.  But  at  the  edge 
of  the  silent  farmyard,  white  and  tranquil  under 
the  flooding  radiance,  the  man-smell  on  the  bars 
had  brought  the  bob-cat  to  a  sudden  halt.  No 
moon-madness  could  make  the  cautious  cat  forget 


260        ube  TKflatcbets  ot  tbe  Urails 

the  menace  of  that  smell.  It  had  turned  in  its 
tracks,  and  concluded  to  look  for  woodchucks  in 
the  corn-field. 

When  the  bob-cat  had  taken  a  few  paces  along 
the  log,  it  paused  and  glared  at  the  porcupine  vin- 
dictively, its  eyes  seeming  to  emit  faint,  whitish 
flames.  The  porcupine,  on  the  other  hand,  came 
right  on,  slowly  and  indifferently,  as  if  unaware 
of  the  bob-cat's  presence.  The  latter  crouched 
down,  flattened  back  its  ears,  dug  long,  punishing 
claws  into  the  bark,  opened  its  sharp-toothed  jaws, 
and  gave  a  savage  spitting  snarl.  Was  it  possible 
that  this  insignificant,  blundering,  sluggish  crea- 
ture, this  pig  of  the  tree-tops,  was  going  to  demand 
the  right  of  way?  The  porcupine,  unhurried,  con- 
tinued to  advance,  nothing  but  an  increased  eleva- 
tion of  his  quills  betraying  that  he  was  aware  of 
an  opponent.  The  cat's  absurd  stub  of  a  tail 
twitched  spasmodically,  and  for  a  few  seconds  it 
seemed  as  if  rage  might  get  the  better  of  discre- 
tion. But  all  the  wild  creatures  know  the  qualities 
of  that  fine  armory  of  quills  carried  by  the  porcu- 
pine. The  big  cat  pulled  himself  together  with 
a  screech,  ran  back,  and  sprang  off  to  a  rock  on 
the  bank,  whence  he  spat  impotently  while  the  por- 
cupine crawled  by. 


Wben  tbe  flDoon  fs  over  tfoe  Corn   261 

So  leisurely  was  the  progress  of  the  bristling 
little  adventurer  that  it  was  a  good  half-hour  ere 
he  reached  the  farmyard  bars.  Here  he  stopped, 
and  sniffed  curiously.  But  it  was  no  dread  of  the 
dreaded  man-smell  that  delayed  him.  The  bars 
had  been  handled  by  many  hot,  toiling  hands;  and 
the  salt  of  their  sweat  had  left  upon  the  wood  a 
taste  which  the  porcupine  found  pleasant.  Here 
and  there,  up  and  down,  he  gnawed  at  the  dis- 
coloured surfaces.  Then,  when  the  relish  was 
exhausted,  he  climbed  down  on  the  inside,  and 
marched  deliberately  up  the  middle  of  the  yard 
toward  the  kitchen  door.  His  quills  made  a  dry, 
rustling  noise  as  he  went;  his  claws  rattled  on 
the  chips,  and  in  the  unshadowed  open  he  was  most 
audaciously  in  evidence.  His  bearing  was  not  de- 
fiant, but  self-reliant,  as  of  one  who  minded  his 
own  business  and  demanded  to  be  let  alone.  From 
the  stables  across  the  yard  came  the  stamping  of 
horses'  hoofs ;  a  turkey  in  the  tree  behind  the  barn 
quit-quitted  warningly;  and  a  long-drawn,  high- 
pitched  kwee-ee-ee-ee-ee  of  inquiry  came  from  the 
wakeful  leghorn  cock  in  the  poultry-house.  To  all 
these  unfamiliar  sounds  the  porcupine  turned  the 
deaf  ear  of  self-contained  indifference. 

At  this  moment  around  from  the  front  door- 


262        ube  TKUatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

step  came  the  farmer's  big  black  and  white  dog-, 
to  see  what  was  exciting  his  family.  He  was  a 
wise  dog,  and  versed  in  the  lore  of  the  wilderness. 
Had  the  intruder  been  a  bear  he  would  have  sought 
to  attract  its  attention,  and  raised  an  outcry  to 
summon  his  master  to  the  fray.  But  a  porcupine! 
He  was  too  wary  to  attack  it,  and  too  dignified 
to  make  any  fuss  over  it.  With  a  scornful  woof, 
he  turned  away,  and  strolled  *into  the  garden,  to 
dig  up  an  old  bone  which  he  had  buried  in  the 
cucumber-bed. 

The  porcupine,  meanwhile,  had  found  something 
that  interested  him.  Near  the  kitchen  door  stood 
an  empty  wooden  box,  shining  in  the  moonlight. 
First  its  bright  colour,  then  its  scent,  attracted  his 
attention.  It  had  recently  contained  choice  flakes 
of  salted  codfish,  and  the  salt  had  soaked  deep  into 
its  fibres.  With  the  long,  keen  chisels  of  his  front 
teeth,  he  attacked  the  wood  eagerly,  —  and  the 
loud  sound  of  his  gnawings  echoed  on  the  stillness. 
It  awoke  the  farmer,  who  rubbed  his  eyes,  arose 
on  his  elbow,  listened  a  moment,  muttered,  "An- 
other of  them  durn  porkypines !  "  and  dropped  to 
sleep  again. 

When  the  leisurely  adventurer  had  eaten  as  much 
of  the  box  as  he  could  hold,  he  took  it  into  his  head 


TKflben  tbe  flDoon  10  over  tbe  Corn  263 

to  go  home,  —  which  meant,  to  any  comfortable 
tree  back  in  the  woods.  His  home  was  at  large. 
This  time  he  decided  to  go  through  a  hole  under 
the  board  fence  between  the  barn  and  the  fowl- 
house.  And  it  was  here  that,  for  the  first  time 
on  this  expedition,  he  was  induced  by  a  power  out- 
side himself  to  change  his  mind.  As  he  approached 
the  hole  under  the  fence,  from  the  radiance  of  the 
open  yard  beyond  came  another  animal,  heading 
for  the  same  point.  The  stranger  was  much  smaller 
than  the  porcupine,  and  wore  no  panoply  of  points. 
But  it  had  the  same  tranquil  air  of  owning  the 
earth.  The  moonlight,  shining  full  upon  it,  showed 
its  pointed  nose,  and  two  broad,  white  stripes  run- 
ning down  the  black  fur  of  its  back. 

The  stranger  reached  the  opening  in  the  fence 
about  three  seconds  ahead  of  the  porcupine.  And 
this  time  the  porcupine  was  the  one  to  defer.  He 
did  not  like  it.  He  grunted  angrily,  and  his  deadly 
spines  stood  up.  But  he  drew  aside,  and  avoided 
giving  any  offence  to  so  formidable  an  acquaintance. 
No  foot  of  ground  would  his  sturdy  courage  yield 
to  bob-cat,  bear,  or  man;  but  of  a  skunk  he  was 
afraid.  When  the  skunk  had  passed  through  the 
fence,  and  wandered  off  to  hunt  for  eggs  under 
the  barn,  the  porcupine  turned  and  went  all  the 


264        ZTbe  'CQatcbeis  ot  tbe  trails 

way  around  the  fowl-house.  Then  he  struck  down 
through  the  back  of  the  garden,  gained  the  rail 
fence  enclosing  the  corn-field,  and  at  length,  whether 
by  intention,  or  because  the  fence,  a  convenient 
promenade,  led  him  to  it,  he  came  back  to  the  lean- 
ing poplar.  With  a  pleasant  memory  drawing  him 
on,  he  climbed  the  tree  once  more.  The  round 
moon  was  getting  low  now,  and  the  shadows  she 
cast  out  across  the  corn  were  long  and  weird.  But 
the  downpour  of  her  light  was  still  mysterious  in 
its  clarity,  and  in  its  sheen  the  porcupine,  rolled 
up  like  a  bird's  nest,  swung  himself  luxuriously 
to  sleep. 


(Truce 


ftruce 

|OO  early,  while  yet  the  snow  was  thick 
and  the  food  scarce,  the  big  black  bear 
had  roused  himself  from  his  long  winter 
sleep  and  forsaken  his  snug  den  under  the  roots 
of  the  pine-tree.  The  thawing  spring  world  he 
found  an  empty  place,  no  rabbits  to  be  captured, 
no  roots  to  be  dug  from  wet  meadows ;  and 
his  appetite  was  sorely  vexing  him.  He  would 
have  crept  back  into  his  hole  for  another  nap;  but 
the  air  was  too  stimulatingly  warm,  too  full  of 
promise  of  life,  to  suffer  him  to  resume  the  old, 
comfortable  drowsiness.  Moreover,  having  gone 
to  bed  thin  the  previous  December,  he  had  waked 
up  hungry;  and  hunger  is  a  restless  bedfellow. 
In  three  days  he  had  had  but  one  meal  —  a  big 
trout,  clawed  out  half -dead  from  a  rocky  eddy  be- 
low the  Falls;  and  now,  as  he  sniffed  the  soft, 
wet  air  with  fiercely  eager  nostrils,  he  forgot  his 
customary  tolerance  of  mood  and  was  ready  to  do 
battle  with  anything  that  walked  the  ^wilderness. 


268        Ube  TKnatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

It  was  a  little  past  noon,  and  the  shadows  of  the 
tree-tops  fell  blue  on  the  rapidly  shrinking  snow. 
The  air  was  full  of  faint  trickling  noises,  and  thin 
tinklings  where  the  snow  veiled  the  slopes  of  little 
rocky  hollows.  Under  the  snow  and  under  the 
rotting  patches  of  ice,  innumerable  small  streams 
were  everywhere  hurrying  to  swell  the  still  ice- 
fettered  flood  of  the  river,  the  Big  Fork,  whose 
roomy  valley  lay  about  a  half-mile  eastward 
through  the  woods.  Every  now  and  then,  when 
a  soft  gust  drew  up  from  the  south,  it  bore  with 
it  a  heavy  roar,  a  noise  as  of  muffled  and  tre- 
mendous trampling,  the  voice  of  the  Big  Fork  Falls 
thundering  out  from  under  their  decaying  lid  of 
ice.  The  Falls  were  the  only  thing  which  the 
black  bear  really  feared.  Often  as  he  had  visited 
them,  to  catch  wounded  fish  in  the  ominous  eddies 
at  their  foot,  he  could  never  look  at  their  terrific 
plunge  without  a  certain  awed  dilation  of  his  eyes, 
a  certain  shrinking  at  his  heart.  Perhaps  by 
reason  of  some  association  of  his  cubhood,  some 
imminent  peril  and  narrow  escape  at  the  age  when 
his  senses  were  most  impressionable,  in  all  his  five 
years  of  life  the  Falls  had  never  become  a  com- 
monplace to  him.  And  even  now,  while  questing 
noiselessly  and  restlessly  for  food,  he  rarely  failed 


ZTruce  269 

to  pay  the  tribute  of  an  instinctive,  unconscious 
turn  of  head  whenever  that  portentous  voice  came 
up  upon  the  wind. 

Prowling  hither  and  thither  among  the  great 
ragged  trunks,  peering  and  sniffing  and  listening,  the 
bear  suddenly  caught  the  sound  of  small  claws  on 
wood.  The  sound  came  apparently  from  within  the 
trunk  of  a  huge  maple,  close  at  hand.  Leaning  his 
head  to  one  side,  he  listened  intently,  his  ears  cocked, 
eager  as  a  child  listening  to  a  watch.  There  was, 
indeed,  something  half  childish  in  the  attitude  of 
the  huge  figure,  strangely  belying  the  ferocity  in 
his  heart.  Yes,  the  sound  came,  unmistakably,  from 
within  the  trunk.  He  nosed  the  bark  warily. 
There  was  no  opening;  and  the  bark  was  firm. 
He  stole  to  the  other  side  of  the  tree,  his  head 
craftily  outstretched  and  reaching  around  far  be- 
fore him. 

The  situation  was  clear  to  him  at  once,  —  and 
his  hungry  muzzle  jammed  itself  into  the  entrance 
to  a  chipmunk's  hole.  The  maple-tree  was  dead, 
and  partly  decayed,  up  one  .side  of  the  trunk. 
All  his  craft  forgotten  on  the  instant,  the  bear 
sniffed  and  snorted  and  drew  loud,  fierce  breaths, 
as  if  he  thought  to  suck  the  little  furry  tenant 
forth  by  inhalation.  The  live,  warm  smell  that 


270        ttbe  Matcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

came  from  the  hole  was  deliciously  tantalizing  to 
his  appetite.  The  hole,  however,  was  barely  big 
enough  to  admit  the  tip  of  his  black  snout,  so  he 
presently  gave  over  his  foolish  sniffings,  and  set 
himself  to  tear  an  entrance  with  his  resistless  claws. 
The  bark  and  dead  wood  flew  in  showers  under  his 
efforts,  and  it  was  evident  that  the  chipmunk's 
little  home  would  speedily  lie  open  to  the  foe.  But 
the  chipmunk,  meanwhile,  from  the  crotch  of  a  limb 
overhead,  was  looking  down  in  silent  indignation. 
Little  Stripe-sides  had  been  wise  enough  to  pro- 
vide his  dwelling  with  a  sort  of  skylight  exit. 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  his  task,  the  bear 
stopped  and  lifted  his  muzzle  to  the  wind.  What 
was  that  new  taint  upon  the  air?  It  was  one 
almost  unknown  to  him,  —  but  one  which  he  in- 
stinctively dreaded,  though  without  any  reason 
based  directly  upon  experience  of  his  own.  At 
almost  any  other  time,  indeed,  he  would  have  taken 
the  first  whiff  of  that  ominous  man-smell  as  a 
signal  to  efface  himself  and  make  off  noiselessly 
down  the  wind.  But  just  now,  his  first  feeling 
was  wrath  at  the  thought  of  being  hindered  from 
his  prospective  meal.  He  would  let  no  one,  not 
even  a  man,  rob  him  of  that  chipmunk.  Then,  as 
his  wrath  swelled  rapidly,  he  decided  to  hunt  the 


Ube  Uruce  271 

man  himself.  Perhaps,  as  the  bear  relishes  practi- 
cally everything  edible  under  the  sun  except  human 
flesh,  he  had  no  motive  but  a  savage  impulse 
to  punish  the  intruder  for  such  an  untimely  intru- 
sion. However  that  may  be,  a  red  light  came  into 
his  eyes,  and  he  swung  away  to  meet  this  unknown 
trespasser  upon  his  trails. 

On  that  same  day,  after  a  breakfast  before  dawn 
in  order  that  he  might  make  an  early  start,  a  gaunt 
trapper  had  set  out  from  the  Settlement  on  the 
return  journey  to  his  camp  beyond  the  Big  Fork. 
He  had  been  in  to  the  Settlement  with  a  pack  of 
furs,  and  was  now  hurrying  back  as  fast  as  he 
could,  because  of  the  sudden  thaw.  He  was  afraid 
the  ice  might  go  out  of  the  river  and  leave  him 
cut  off  from  his  camp,  —  for  his  canoe  was  on  the 
other  side.  As  the  pelts  were  beginning  to  get  poor, 
he  had  left  his  rifle  at  home,  and  carried  no 
weapon  but  his  knife.  He  had  grown  so  accus- 
tomed to  counting  all  the  furry  wild  folk  as  his 
prey  that  he  never  thought  of  them  as  possible 
adversaries,  —  unless  it  might  chance  to  be  some 
such  exception  as  a  bull-moose  in  rutting  season. 
A  rifle,  therefore,  when  he  was  not  after  skins, 
seemed  to  him  a  useless  burden ;  and  he  was  carry- 
ing, moreover,  a  pack  of  camp  supplies  on  his 


*72         Ube  TKnatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

broad  back.  He  was  tall,  lean,  leather-faced  and 
long- jawed,  with  calm,  light  blue  eyes  under 
heavy  brows;  and  he  wore  a  stout,  yellow-brown, 
homespun  shirt,  squirrel-skin  cap,  long  leggings  of 
deerhide,  and  oiled  cowhide  moccasins.  He  walked 
rapidly  with  a  long,  slouching  stride  that  was  al- 
most a  lope,  his  toes  pointing  straight  ahead  like 
an  Indian's. 

When,  suddenly,  the  bear  lurched  out  into  his 
trail  and  confronted  him,  the  woodsman  was  in  no 
way  disturbed.  The  bear  paused,  swaying  in  surly 
fashion,  about  ten  paces  in  front  of  him,  completely 
blocking  the  trail.  But  the  woodsman  kept  right 
on.  The  only  attention  he  paid  to  the  big,  black 
stranger  was  to  shout  at  him  authoritatively  — 
"  Git  out  the  way,  thar !  " 

To  his  unbounded  astonishment,  however,  the 
beast,  instead  of  getting  out  of  the  way,  ran  at 
him  with  a  snarling  growl.  The  woodsman's  calm 
blue  eyes  flamed  with  anger;  but  the  life  of  the 
woods  teaches  one  to  think  quickly,  or  rather,  to 
act  in  advance  of  one's  thoughts.  He  knew  that 
with  no  weapon  but  his  knife  he  was  no  match 
for  such  a  foe,  so,  leaping  aside  as  lightly  as  a  pan- 
ther, he  darted  around  a  tree,  regained  the  trail 
beyond  his  assailant,  and  ran  on  at  his  best  speed 


Ube  Uruce  273 

toward  the  river.  He  made  sure  that  the  bear 
had  acted  under  a  mere  spasm  of  ill-temper,  and 
would  not  take  the  trouble  to  follow  far. 

When,  once  in  a  long  time,  a  hunter  or  trapper 
gets  the  worst  of  it  in  his  contest  with  the  wild 
kindreds,  in  the  majority  of  cases  it  is  because  he 
had  fancied  he  knew  all  about  bears.  The  bear 
is  strong  in  individuality  and  delights  to  set  at 
nought  the  traditions  of  his  kind.  So  it  happens 
that  every  now  and  then  a  woodsman  pays  with 
his  life  for  failing  to  recognize  that  the  bear  won't 
always  play  by  rule. 

To  the  trapper's  disgusted  amazement,  this  par- 
ticular bear  followed  him  so  vindictively  that  before 
he  realized  the  full  extent  of  his  peril  he  was  al- 
most overtaken.  He  saw  that  he  must  deliver  up 
his  precious  pack,  the  burden  of  which  was  effect- 
ively handicapping  him  in  the  race  for  life.  When 
the  bear  was  almost  upon  him,  he  flung  the  bundle 
away,  with  angry  violence,  expecting  that  it  would 
at  once  divert  the  pursuer's  attention. 

In  about  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred, 
perhaps,  it  would  have  done  so,  for  among  other 
things  it  contained  bacon  and  sugar,  dainties 
altogether  delectable  to  a  bear's  palate.  But  as 
luck  would  have  it,  the  bundle  so  bitterly  hurled 


274        Ube  Watcbers  of  tbe  Uratls 

struck  the  beast  full  on  the  snout,  making  him 
grunt  with  pain  and  fresh  fury.  From  that  mo- 
ment he  was  a  veritable  demon  of  vengeance.  Well 
enough  he  knew  it  was  not  the  bundle,  but  the 
man  who  had  thrown  it,  upon  whom  he  must  wipe 
out  the  affront.  His  hunger  was  all  forgotten  in 
red  rage. 

Fortunate  it  was  now  for  the  tall  woodsman  that 
he  had  lived  abstemiously  and  laboured  sanely  all 
that  winter,  and  could  depend  upon  both  wind  and 
limb.  Fortunate,  too,  that  on  the  open  trail,  cut 
years  before  by  the  lumbermen  of  the  Big  Fork 
Drive,  the  snow  was  already  almost  gone,  so  that 
it  did  not  seriously  impede  his  running.  He  ran 
almost  like  a  caribou,  with  enough  in  reserve  to  be 
able  to  glance  back  over  his  shoulder  from  time 
to  time.  But  seeing  how  implacable  was  the  black 
bulk  that  pursued,  he  could  not  help  thinking  what 
would  happen,  there  in  the  great,  wet,  shadow- 
mottled  solitudes,  if  he  should  chance  to  trip  upon 
a  root,  or  if  his  wind  should  fail  him  before  he 
could  reach  the  camp.  At  this  thought,  not  fear, 
but  a  certain  disgust  and  impotent  resentment, 
swelled  his  heart;  and  with  a  challenging  look  at 
the  ancient  trunks,  the  familiar  forest  aisles,  the 
high,  branch-fretted  blue,  bright  with  spring  sun- 


ZTbe  ZTruce  275 

shine,  he  defied  the  wilderness,  which  he  had  so 
long  loved  and  ruled,  to  turn  upon  him  with  such 
an  unspeakable  betrayal. 

The  wilderness  loves  a  master;  and  the  chal- 
lenge was  not  accepted.  No  root  tripped  his  feet, 
nor  did  his  wind  fail  him;  and  so  he  came  out, 
with  the  bear  raging  some  ten  paces  behind  his 
heels,  upon  the  banks  of  the  Big  Fork.  Once  across 
that  quarter-mile  of  sloppy,  rotting  ice,  he  knew 
there  was  good,  clear  running  to  his  cabin  and  his 
gun.  His  heart  rose,  his  resentment  left  him,  and 
he  grinned  as  he  gave  one  more  glance  over  his 
shoulder. 

As  he  raced  down  the  bank,  the  trampling  of  the 
Falls,  a  mile  away,  roared  up  to  him  on  a  gust  of 
wind.  In  spite  of  himself  he  could  not  but  notice 
how  treacherous  the  ice  was  looking.  In  spite  of 
himself  he  noticed  it,  having  no  choice  but  to  trust 
it.  The  whole  surface  looked  sick,  with  patches 
of  sodden  white  and  sickly  lead-colour;  and  down 
along  the  shore  it  was  covered  by  a  lane  of  shal- 
low, yellowish  water.  It  appeared  placid  and 
innocent  enough;  but  the  woodsman's  practised 
eye  perceived  that  it  might  break  up,  or  "  go  out," 
at  any  moment.  The  bear  was  at  his  heels,  how- 
ever, and  that  particular  moment  was  not  the  one 


276        Ube  TKflatcbers  of  tbe  TTrails 

for  indecision.  The  woodsman  dashed  knee-deep 
through  the  margin  water,  and  out  upon  the  free 
ice;  and  he  heard  the  bear,  reckless  of  all  admoni- 
tory signs,  splash  after  him  about  three  seconds 
later. 

On  the  wide,  sun-flooded  expanse  of  ice,  with 
the  dark  woods  beyond  and  soft  blue  sky  above, 
the  threat  of  imminent  death  seemed  to  the  woods- 
man curiously  out  of  place.  Yet  there  death  was, 
panting  savagely  at  his  heels,  ready  for  the  first 
mis-step.  And  there,  too,  a  mile  below,  was  death 
in  another  form,  roaring  heavily  from  the  swollen 
Falls.  And  hidden  under  a  face  of  peace,  he  knew 
that  death  lurked  all  about  his  feet,  liable  to  rise  in 
mad  fury  at  any  instant  with  the  breaking  of  the 
ice.  As  he  thought  of  all  this  besetting  menace, 
the  woodsman's  nerves  drew  themselves  to  steel. 
He  set  his  teeth  grimly.  A  light  of  elation  came 
into  his  eyes.  And  he  felt  himself  able  to  win 
the  contest  against  whatever  odds. 

As  this  sense  of  new  vigour  and  defiance  spurred 
him  to  a  fresh  burst  of  speed,  the  woodsman  took 
notice  that  he  was  just  about  half-way  across  the 
ice.  "  Good !  "  he  muttered,  counting  the  game 
now  more  than  half  won.  Then,  even  as  he  spoke, 
a  strange,  terrifying  sound  ran  all  about  him.  Was 


Tlbe  Uruce  277 

it  in  the  air,  or  beneath  the  ice?  It  came  from 
everywhere  at  once,  —  a  straining  grumble,  ominous 
as  the  first  growl  of  an  earthquake.  The  woods- 
man understood  that  dreadful  voice  very  well.  He 
wavered  for  a  second,  then  sprang  forward  desper- 
ately. And  the  bear,  pursuing,  understood  also. 
His  rage  vanished  in  a  breath.  He  stumbled, 
whimpered,  cast  one  frightened  glance  at  the  too 
distant  shore  behind  him,  then  followed  the  woods- 
man's flight,  —  followed  now,  with  no  more  heed 
to  pursue. 

For  less  than  half  a  minute  that  straining  grumble 
continued.  Then  it  grew  louder,  mingled  with 
sharp,  ripping  reports,  and  long,  black  lanes 
opened  suddenly  in  every  direction.  Right  before 
the  woodsman's  flying  feet  one  opened.  He  took 
it  with  a  bound.  But  even  as  he  sprang  the  ice 
went  all  to  pieces.  What  he  sprang  to  was  no 
longer  a  solid  surface,  but  a  tossing  fragment  which 
promptly  went  down  beneath  the  impact  of  his  de- 
scent. Not  for  nothing  was  it,  however,  that  the 
woodsman  had  learned  to  "  run  the  logs  "  in  many 
a  tangled  boom  and  racing  "drive."  His  foot 
barely  touched  the  treacherous  floe  ere  he  leaped 
again  and  yet  again,  till  he  had  gained,  by  a  path 
which  none  but  a  riverman  could  ever  have  dreamed 


278        ttbe  Watcbers  of  tbe  trails 

of  traversing,  an  ice-cake  broad  and  firm  enough  to 
give  him  foothold.  Beyond  this  refuge  was  a  space 
of  surging  water,  foam,  and  ice-mush,  too  broad  for 
the  essay  of  any  human  leap. 

The  Big  Fork,  from  shore  to  shore,  was  now  a 
tossing,  swishing,  racing,  whirling,  and  grinding 
chaos  of  ice-cakes,  churning  in  an  angry  flood 
and  hurrying  blindly  to  the  Falls.  In  the  centre 
of  his  own  floe  the  woodsman  sat  down,  the  bet- 
ter to  preserve  his  balance.  He  bit  off  a  chew 
from  his  plug  of  "  blackjack,"  and  with  calm  eyes 
surveyed  the  doom  toward  which  he  was  rushing. 
A  mile  is  a  very  short  distance  when  it  lies  above 
the  inevitable.  The  woodsman  saw  clearly  that 
there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  chew  his  "  black- 
jack," and  wait  on  fate.  That  point  settled,  he 
turned  his  head  to  see  what  the  bear  was  doing. 

To  his  surprise,  the  animal  was  now  a  good 
fifty  yards  farther  up-stream,  having  evidently  been 
delayed  by  some  vagary  of  the  struggling  ice.  He 
was  now  sitting  up  on  his  haunches  on  a  floe, 
and  staring  silently  at  the  volleying  cloud  which 
marked  the  Falls.  The  woodsman  was  aware  of 
a  curious  fellow  feeling  for  the  great  beast  which, 
not  five  minutes  ago,  had  been  raging  for  his  life. 
To  the  woodsman,  with  his  long  knowledge  and 


Ube  Uruce  279 

understanding  of  the  wild  kindreds,  that  rage  and 
that  pursuit  now  appeared  as  lying  more  or  less 
in  the  course  of  events,  a  part  of  the  normal  sav- 
agery of  Nature,  and  no  matter  of  personal  vin- 
dictiveness. 

Now  that  he  and  his  enemy  were  involved  in  a 
common  and  appalling  doom,  the  enmity  was  for- 
gotten. "  Got  cl'ar  grit,  too !  "  he  murmured  to 
himself,  as  he  took  note  of  the  quiet  way  the  bear 
was  eyeing  the  Falls. 

And  now  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  trampling 
roar  grew  louder  every  second,  drowning  into  dumb- 
ness the  crashing  and  grinding  of  the  ice;  and 
the  volleying  mist-clouds  seemed  to  race  up-stream 
to  meet  him.  Then,  with  a  sickening  jump  and 
turn  of  his  heart,  a  hope  came  and  shook  him  out 
of  his  stoicism.  He  saw  that  his  ice-cake  was  sail- 
ing straight  for  a  little  rocky  islet  just  above  the 
fall.  Two  minutes  more  would  decide  his  fate,  — 
at  least  for  the  time.  He  did  not  trouble  to  think 
what  he  would  do  on  the  island,  if  he  got  there. 
He  rose  cautiously  and  crouched,  every  sinew  tense 
to  renew  the  battle  for  life. 

Another  minute  fled  away,  and  the  island  was 
close  ahead,  wrapped  in  the  roar  and  the  mist- 
volleys.  A  cross-current  seized  the  racing  ice-cake, 


Udatcbers  of  tbe  tTratls 

dragging  it  aside,  —  and  the  man  clenched  his 
fists  in  a  fury  of  disappointment  as  he  saw  that 
he  would  miss  the  refuge  after  all.  He  made  ready 
to  plunge  in  and  at  least  die  battling.  Then  fate 
took  yet  another  whim,  and  a  whirling  mass  of  logs 
and  ice,  colliding  with  the  floe,  forced  it  back  to 
its  original  course.  Another  moment  and  it 
grounded  violently,  breaking  into  four  pieces,  which 
rolled  off  on  either  side  toward  the  abyss.  And 
the  woodsman,  splashing  into  the  turbulent  shal- 
lows, made  good  his  hold  upon  a  rock  and  dragged 
himself  ashore. 

Fairly  landed,  he  shook  himself,  spat  coolly  into 
the  flood,  and  turned  to  see  what  was  happening 
to  his  fellow  in  distress.  To  the  roaring  vortex 
just  below  him  —  so  close  that  it  seemed  as  if  it 
might  at  any  moment  drag  down  the  little  island 
and  engulf  it  —  he  paid  no  heed  whatever,  but 
turned  his  back  contemptuously  upon  the  tumult 
and  the  mists.  His  late  enemy,  alive,  strong,  splen- 
did, and  speeding  to  a  hideous  destruction,  was  of 
the  keener  interest  to  his  wilderness  spirit. 

The  bear  was  now  about  twenty  paces  above  the 
island;  but  caught  by  an  inexorable  current,  he 
was  nearly  that  distance  beyond  it.  With  a  distinct 
regret,  a  pang  of  sympathy,  the  man  saw  that  there 


Uruce  281 

was  no  chance  of  his  adversary's  escape.  But  the 
bear,  like  himself,  seeing  a  refuge  so  near,  was 
not  of  the  temper  to  give  up  without  a  struggle. 
Suddenly,  like  a  gigantic  spring  uncoiling,  he 
launched  himself  forth  with  a  violence  that  com- 
pletely up-ended  his  ice-cake,  and  carried  him  over 
a  space  of  churned  torrent  to  the  edge  of  another 
floe.  Gripping  this  with  his  mighty  forearms  till 
he  pulled  it  half  under,  he  succeeded  in  clawing 
out  upon  it.  Scrambling  across,  he  launched  him- 
self again,  desperately,  sank  almost  out  of  sight, 
rose  and  began  swimming,  with  all  the  energy  of 
courage  and  despair  combined. 

But  already  he  was  opposite  the  head  of  the 
island.  Could  he  make  it?  The  man's  own 
muscles  strained  and  heaved  in  unconscious  sym- 
pathy with  that  struggle.  The  bear  was  a  gallant 
swimmer,  and  for  a  moment  it  looked  as  if  there 
might  be  the  ghost  of  a  chance  for  him.  But  no, 
the  torrent  had  too  deadly  a  grip  upon  his  long- 
furred  bulk.  He  would  just  miss  that  last  safe 
ledge! 

In  his  eagerness,  and  without  any  conscious 
thought  of  what  he  was  doing,  the  man  stepped 
down  into  the  water  knee-deep,  bracing  himself, 
and  clinging  with  his  left  hand  to  a  tough  pro- 


282        ube  TKflatcbers  ot  tbe  trails 

jecting  root.  Closer  came  the  bear,  beating  down 
the  splintered  refuse  that  obstructed  him,  his  long, 
black  body  labouring  dauntlessly.  Closer  he  came, 
—  but  not  quite  close  enough  to  get  his  strong 
paws  on  the  rock.  A  foot  more  would  have  done 
it,  —  but  that  paltry  foot  he  was  unable  to  make 
good. 

The  man  could  not  stand  it.  It  was  quite  too 
fine  a  beast  to  be  dragged  over  the  Falls  before 
his  eyes,  if  he  could  help  it.  Reaching  out  swiftly 
with  his  right  hand,  he  caught  the  swimmer  by 
the  long  fur  of  his  neck,  and  heaved  with  all  his 
strength. 

For  a  moment  he  wondered  if  he  could  hold  on. 
The  great  current  drew  and  sucked,  almost  irresist- 
ibly. But  his  grip  was  of  steel,  his  muscles  sound 
and  tense.  For  a  moment  or  two  the  situation 
hung  in  doubt.  Then  the  swimmer,  stroking 
desperately,  began  to  gain.  A  moment  more,  and 
that  narrow,  deadly  foot  of  space  was  covered. 
The  animal  got  first  one  paw  upon  the  rocks,  then 
the  other.  With  prompt  discretion,  the  woodsman 
dropped  his  hold  and  stepped  back  to  the  top  of 
the  island,  suddenly  grown  doubtful  of  his  own 
wisdom. 

Drawing  himself  just  clear  of  the  torrent,  the 


Uruce  283 

bear  crouched  panting  for  several  minutes,  ex- 
hausted from  the  tremendous  struggle;  and  the 
man,  on  the  top  of  the  rock,  waited  with  his  hand 
upon  his  knife-hilt  to  see  what  would  come  of  his 
reckless  act.  In  reality,  however,  he  did  not  look 
for  trouble,  knowing  the  natures  of  the  wild  kin- 
dreds. He  was  merely  holding  himself  on  guard 
against  the  unexpected.  But  he  soon  saw  that  his 
caution  was  unnecessary.  Recovering  breath,  the 
bear  clambered  around  the  very  edge  of  the  rocks 
to  the  farther  side  of  the  island,  as  far  as  possible 
from  his  rescuer.  There  he  seated  himself  upon 
his  haunches,  and  devoted  himself  to  gazing  down, 
as  if  fascinated,  at  the  cauldron  from  which  he 
had  been  snatched. 

During  the  next  half-hour  the  woodsman  began 
to  think.  For  the  present,  he  knew  that  the  bear 
was  quite  inoffensive,  being  both  grateful  and  over- 
awed. But  there  was  no  food  on  the  island  for 
either,  except  the  other.  So  the  fight  was  bound 
to  be  renewed  at  last.  And  after  that,  whoever 
might  be  the  victor,  what  remained  for  him? 
From  that  island,  on  the  lip  of  the  fall  and  walled 
about  with  wild  rapids,  there  could  be  no  escape. 
The  situation  was  not  satisfactory  from  any  point 
of  view.  But  that  it  was  clear  against  his  print- 


284        TTbe  TWlatcbers  of  tbe  Uratls 

ciples  to  knuckle  down,  under  any  conditions,  to 
beast,  or  man,  or  fate,  the  woodsman  might  have 
permitted  himself  to  wish  that,  after  all,  his  ice- 
cake  had  missed  the  island.  As  it  was,  however,  he 
took  another  bite  from  his  plug  of  "blackjack," 
and  set  himself  to  whittling  a  stick. 

With  a  backwoodsman's  skill  in  the  art  of  whit- 
tling, he  had  made  good  progress  toward  the 
shaping  of  a  toy  hand-sled,  when,  looking  up  from 
his  task,  he  saw  something  that  mightily  changed 
the  face  of  affairs.  He  threw  away  the  half-shaped 
toy,  thrust  the  knife  back  into  his  belt,  and  rose 
to  his  feet.  After  a  long,  sagacious  survey  of  the 
flood,  he  drew  his  knife  again,  and  proceeded  to 
cut  himself  a  stout  staff,  a  sort  of  alpenstock.  He 
saw  that  an  ice- jam  was  forming  just  above  the 
falls. 

The  falls  of  the  Big  Fork  lie  at  a  sharp  elbow 
of  the  river,  and  cross  the  channel  on  a  slant.  Im- 
mediately above  them  the  river  shoals  sharply; 
and  though  at  ordinary  seasons  there  is  only  one 
island  visible,  at  times  of  low  water  huge  rocks 
appear  all  along  the  brink.  It  chanced,  at  this 
particular  time,  that  after  the  first  run  of  the  ice 
had  passed  there  came  a  second  run  that  was  mixed 
with  logs.  This  ice,  moreover,  was  less  rotten 


Ube  ttruce  285 

than  that  which  had  formed  near  the  falls,  and 
it  came  down  in  larger  cakes.  When  some  of  these 
big  cakes,  cemented  with  logs,  grounded  on  the 
head  of  the  island,  the  nucleus  of  a  jam  was  promptly 
formed.  At  the  same  time  some  logs,  deeply  frozen 
into  an  ice-floe,  caught  and  hung  on  one  of  the 
unseen  mid-stream  ledges.  An  accumulation  gath- 
ered in  the  crook  of  the  elbow,  over  on  the  farther 
shore;  and  then,  as  if  by  magic,  the  rush  stopped, 
the  flood  ran  almost  clear  from  the  lip  of  the  falls, 
and  the  river  was  closed  from  bank  to  bank. 

The  woodsman  sat  quietly  watching,  as  if  it 
were  a  mere  idle  spectacle,  instead  of  the  very 
bridge  of  life,  that  was  forming  before  his  eyes. 
Little  by  little  the  structure  welded  itself,  the  masses 
of  drift  surging  against  the  barrier,  piling  up  and 
diving  under,  till  it  was  compacted  and  knit  to  the 
very  bottom,  —  and  the  roar  of  the  falls  dwindled 
with  the  diminishing  of  the  stream.  This  was  the 
moment  for  which  the  man  was  waiting.  Now, 
if  ever,  the  jam  was  solid,  and  might  hold  so  until 
he  gained  the  farther  shore.  But  beyond  this 
moment  every  second  of  delay  only  served  to  gather 
the  forces  that  were  straining  to  break  the  obstruc- 
tion. He  knew  that  in  a  very  few  minutes  the 
rising  weight  of  the  flood  must  either  sweep  all 


286        ube  TKlatcbers  of  tbe  Uratls 

before  it,  or  flow  roaring  over  the  top  of  the  jam 
in  a  new  cataract  that  would  sweep  the  island  bare. 
He  sprang  to  his  feet,  grasped  his  stick,  and  scanned 
the  tumbled,  precarious  surface,  choosing  his  path. 
Then  he  turned  and  looked  at  the  bear,  wondering 
if  that  animal's  woodcraft  were  subtler  than  his 
own  to  distinguish  when  the  jam  was  secure.  He 
found  that  the  bear  was  eyeing  him  anxiously,  and 
not  looking  at  the  ice  at  all;  so  he  chuckled,  told 
himself  that  if  he  didn't  know  more  than  a  bear 
he'd  no  business  in  the  woods,  and  stepped  reso- 
lutely forth  upon  the  treacherous  pack.  Before 
he  had  gone  ten  paces  the  bear  jumped  up  with 
a  whimper,  and  followed  hastily,  plainly  conced- 
ing that  the  man  knew  more  than  he. 

In  the  strange,  sudden  quiet,  the  shrunken  falls 
clamouring  thinly  and  the  broken  ice  swishing 
against  the  upper  side  of  the  jam,  the  man  picked 
his  way  across  the  slippery,  chaotic  surface  of  the 
dam,  expecting  every  moment  that  it  would  crum- 
ble with  a  roar  from  under  his  feet.  About  ten 
or  a  dozen  yards  behind  him  came  the  bear,  step- 
ping hurriedly,  and  trembling  as  he  looked  down  at 
the  diminished  cataract.  The  miracle  of  the  vanish- 
ing falls  daunted  his  spirit  most  effectively,  and  he 
seemed  to  think  that  the  whole  mysterious  phe- 


Ube  Uruce  287 

nomenon  was  of  the  man's  creating.  When  the 
two  reached  shore,  the  flood  was  already  boiling 
far  up  the  bank.  Without  so  much  as  a  thank  you, 
the  bear  scurried  past  his  rescuer,  and  made  off 
through  the  timber  like  a  scared  cat.  The  man 
looked  after  him  with  a  slow  smile,  then  turned 
and  scanned  the  perilous  path  he  had  just  traversed. 
As  he  did  so,  the  jam  seemed  to  melt  away  in  mid-- 
channel. Then  a  terrific,  rending  roar  tortured 
the  air.  The  mass  of  logs  and  ice,  and  all  the  in- 
calculable weight  of  imprisoned  waters  hurled 
themselves  together  over  the  brink  with  a  stupe- 
fying crash,  and  throbbing  volumes  of  spray  leapt 
skyward.  The  woodsman's  lean  face  never  changed 
a  muscle;  but  presently,  giving  a  hitch  to  his 
breeches  under  the  belt,  he  muttered  thoughtfully: 

"  Blame  good  thing  we  come  away  when  we 
did!" 

Then,  turning  on  his  larriganed  heels,  he  strode 
up  the  trail  till  the  great  woods  closed  about  him, 
and  the  raving  thunders  gradually  died  into  quiet. 


Gbe  Ikeeper  of  tbe  Mater  *  (Bate 


IT  WOULD  HAVE  SEEMED  LIKE  NO  MORE  THAN   A  DARKER, 
SWIFTLY  -  MOVING  SHADOW  IN  THE  DARK  WATER  " 


Ikeeper  of  tbe 

>OME  distance  below  the  ice,  through  the 
clear,  dark  water  of  the  quiet-running 
stream,  a  dim  form  went  swimming 
swiftly.  It  was  a  sturdy,  broad-headed,  thick-furred 
form,  a  little  more  than  a  foot  in  length,  with  a 
naked,  flattened  tail  almost  as  long  as  the  body.  It 
held  its  small,  handlike  fore  paws  tucked  up  under 
its  chin,  and  swam  with  quick  strokes  of  its  strong 
hind  legs  and  eellike  wrigglings  of  the  muscular 
tail.  It  would  have  seemed  like  no  more  than  a 
darker,  swiftly-moving  shadow  in  the  dark  water, 
save  for  a  curious  burden  of  air-bubbles  which  went 
with  it.  Its  close  under-fur,  which  the  water  could 
not  penetrate,  was  thickly  sprinkled  with  longer 
hairs,  which  the  water  seemed,  as  it  were,  to  plaster 
down ;  and  under  these  long  hairs  the  air  was  caught 
in  little  silvery  bubbles,  which  made  the  swimmer 
conspicuous  even  under  two  inches  of  clear  ice  and 
eighteen  inches  of  running  water. 
291 


292        Ube  TRflatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

As  he  went,  the  swimmer  slanted  downward  and 
aimed  for  a  round  hole,  at  the  bottom  of  the  bank. 
This  hole  was  the  water-gate  of  his  winter  citadel ; 
and  he,  the  keeper  of  it,  was  the  biggest  and 
pluckiest  muskrat  on  the  whole  slow-winding  length 
of  Bitter  Creek. 

At  this  point  Bitter  Creek  was  about  four  feet 
deep  and  ten  or  twelve  feet  wide,  with  low,  bushy 
shores  subject  to  overflow  at  the  slightest  freshet. 
Winter,  setting  in  suddenly  with  fierce  frost,  had 
caught  it  while  its  sluggish  waters  were  still  so 
high  from  the  late  autumn  rains  that  the  bushes 
and  border  grasses  were  all  awash.  Now  the  young 
ice,  transparent  and  elastic,  held  them  in  firm  fet- 
ters. The  flat  world  of  field  and  wood  about  Bitter 
Creek  was  frozen  as  hard  as  iron,  and  a  biting  gale, 
which  carried  a  thin  drift  of  dry,  gritty  snow,  was 
lashing  it  pitilessly.  The  branches  snapped  and 
creaked  under  the  cruel  assault,  and  not  a  bird  or 
beast  was  so  hardy  as  to  show  its  head  abroad. 
But  in  the  muskrat's  world,  there  under  the  safe 
ice,  all  was  as  tranquil  as  a  May  morning.  The 
long  green  and  brown  water-weeds  swayed  softly 
in  the  faint  current,  with  here  and  there  a  silvery 
young  chub  or  an  olive-brown  sucker  feeding  lazily 
among  them.  Under  the  projecting  roots  lurked 


TTbe  "Keeper  of  tbe  "Cdater  *  Oate     293 

water-snails,  and  small,  black,  scurrying  beetles,  and 
big-eyed,  horn- jawed  larvae  which  would  change 
next  spring  to  aerial  forms  of  radiance.  And  not 
one  of  them,  muskrat,  chub,  or  larva,  cared  one  whit 
for  the  scourge  of  winter  on  the  bleak  world  above 
the  ice. 

The  big  muskrat  swam  straight  to  the  mouth  of 
the  hole,  and  plunged  half-way  into  it.  Then  he 
suddenly  changed  his  mind.  Backing  out  abruptly, 
he  darted  up  to  the  surface  close  under  the  edge  of 
the  bank.  Along  the  edge  of  the  bank  the  ice-roof 
slanted  upward,  the  water  having  fallen  several 
inches  since  the  ice  had  set.  This  left  a  covered 
air  space,  about  two  inches  in  height,  all  along 
the  fringes  of  the  grass  roots;  and  here  the  musk- 
rat  paused,  head  and  shoulders  half  out  of  water, 
to  take  breath.  He  was  panting  heavily,  having 
come  a  long  way  under  water  without  stopping  to 
empty  and  refill  his  long-suffering  little  lungs.  Two 
inches  over  his  head,  on  the  other  side  of  the  ice, 
the  thin,  hard  snow  went  driving  and  swirling, 
and  he  could  hear  the  alders  straining  under  the 
bitter  wind.  His  little,  bead-bright  eyes,  set  deep 
in  his  furry  face,  gleamed  with  satisfaction  over  his 
comfortable  security. 

Having  fully  eased  his  lungs,  the  muskrat  dived 


294       .ttbe  "QDlatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

again  to  the  bottom,  and  began  to  gnaw  with  fierce 
energy  at  a  snaky  mass  of  the  roots  of  the  yellow 
material.  Having  cut  off  a  section  about  as  long 
as  himself,  and  more  than  an  inch  in  thickness,  he 
tugged  at  it  fiercely  to  loosen  the  fibres  which  held 
it  to  the  bottom.  But  this  particular  piece  was 
more  firmly  anchored  than  he  had  expected  to  find 
it,  and  presently,  feeling  as  if  his  lungs  would 
burst,  he  was  obliged  to  ascend  to  the  air-space 
under  the  ice  for  a  new  breath.  There  he  puffed 
and  panted  for  perhaps  a  minute.  But  he  had  no 
thought  of  relinquishing  that  piece  of  succulent, 
crisp,  white-hearted  lily-root.  As  soon  as  he  had 
rested,  he  swam  down  again,  and  gripping  it  savagely 
tore  it  loose  at  the  first  pull.  Holding  the  prize 
lengthwise  that  it  might  not  obstruct  his  entrance, 
he  plunged  into  the  hole  in  the  bank,  the  round, 
black  water-gate  to  his  winter  house. 

The  house  was  a  most  comfortable  and  strictly 
utilitarian  structure.  The  entrance,  dug  with  great 
and  persistent  toil  from  the  very  bottom  of  the  bank, 
for  the  better  discouragement  of  the  muskrat's 
deadliest  enemy,  the  mink,  ran  inward  for  nearly 
two  feet,  and  then  upward  on  a  long  slant  some  five 
or  six  feet  through  the  natural  soil.  At  this  point 
the  shore  was  dry  land  at  the  average  level  of  the 


TTbe  "Beeper  of  tbe  Mater  *  (Bate     295 

water;  and  over  this  exit,  which  was  dry  at  the 
time  of  the  building,  the  muskrat  had  raised  his 
house. 

The  house  was  a  seemingly  careless,  roughly 
rounded  heap  of  grass-roots,  long  water-weeds,  lily- 
roots  and  stems,  and  mud,  with  a  few  sticks  woven 
into  the  foundation.  The  site  was  cunningly  chosen, 
so  that  the  roots  and  stems  of  a  large  alder  gave  it 
secure  anchorage;  and  the  whole  structure,  for  all 
its  apparent  looseness,  was  so  well  compacted  as 
to  be  secure  against  the  sweep  of  the  spring  freshets. 
About  six  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base,  it  rose  about 
the  same  distance  from  the  foundation,  a  rude,  sedge- 
thatched  dome,  of  which  something  more  than  three 
feet  now  showed  itself  above  the  ice. 

To  the  unobservant  eye  the  muskrat  house  in 
the  alders  might  have  looked  like  a  mass  of  drift 
in  which  the  rank  water-grass  had  taken  root.  But 
within  the  clumsy  pile,  about  a  foot  below  the  centre 
of  the  dome,  was  a  shapely,  small,  warm  chamber, 
lined  with  the  softest  grasses.  From  one  side  of  this 
chamber  the  burrow  slanted  down  to  another  and 
much  larger  chamber,  the  floor  of  which,  at  the 
present  high  level  of  the  water,  was  partly  flooded. 
From  this  chamber  led  downward  two  burrows,  — 
one,  the  main  passage,  by  which  the  muskrat  had 


«96        tlbe  TK&atcbers  of  tbe  trails 

entered,  opening  frankly,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the 
channel  of  the  creek,  and  the  other,  longer  and 
more  devious,  terminating  in  a  narrow  and  cun- 
ningly concealed  exit,  behind  a  deeply  submerged 
willow-root.  This  passage  was  little  used,  and  was 
intended  chiefly  as  a  way  of  escape  in  case  of  an 
extreme  emergency,  —  such  as,  for  example,  the  in- 
vasion of  a  particularly  enterprising  mink  by  way 
of  the  main  water-gate.  The  muskrat  is  no  match 
for  the  snake-swift,  bloodthirsty  mink,  except  in  the 
one  accomplishment  of  holding  his  breath  under 
water.  And  a  mink  must  be  very  ravenous,  or 
quite  mad  with  the  blood-lust,  to  dare  the  deep 
water-gate  and  the  long  subaqueous  passage  to  the 
muskrat's  citadel,  at  seasons  of  average  high  water. 
In  time  of  drought,  however,  when  the  entrance  is 
nearly  uncovered  and  the  water  goes  but  a  little  way 
up  the  dark  tunnels,  the  mink  will  often  glide  in, 
slaughter  the  garrison,  and  occupy  the  well-built 
citadel. 

The  big  muskrat,  dragging  his  lily-root,  mounted 
the  narrow,  black,  water-filled  passage  till  he  reached 
the  first  chamber.  Here  he  was  met  by  his  mate, 
just  descending  from  the  upper  room.  She  promptly 
appropriated  the  piece  of  lily-root,  which  the  big 
muskrat  meekly  gave  up.  He  had  fed  full  before 


TTbe  ifceeper  of  tbe  TKHater  *  Gate     297 

coming,  and  now  had  no  care  except  to  clean  his 
draggled  fur  and  make  his  toilet  before  mounting 
to  the  little  dry  top  chamber  and  curling  himself 
up  for  a  nap. 

This  toilet  was  as  elaborate  and  painstaking  as 
that  of  the  cleanliest  of  cats  or  squirrels.  He  was 
so  loose-jointed,  so  loose-skinned,  so  flexibly  built 
in  every  way,  that  he  could  reach  every  part  of 
his  fur  with  his  teeth  and  claws  at  once.  He  would 
seem  to  pull  great  folds  of  skin  from  his  back  around 
under  his  breast,  where  he  could  comb  it  the  more 
thoroughly.  It  was  no  trouble  at  all  for  him  to 
scratch  his  left  ear  with  his  right  hind  foot.  He 
went  about  his  task  with  such  zeal  that  in  a  very  few 
minutes  his  fur  was  as  fluffy  and  exquisite  as  that 
of  a  boudoir  kitten.  Then  he  rubbed  his  face, 
eyes,  and  ears  vigorously  with  both  fore  paws  at 
once  in  a  half-childish  fashion,  sitting  up  on  his 
hind-quarters  as  he  did  so.  This  done,  he  flicked 
his  tail  sharply  two  or  three  times,  touched  his 
mate  lightly  with  his  nose,  and  scurried  up  to  the 
little  sleeping-chamber.  Something  less  than  a  foot 
above  his  head  the  winter  gale  howled,  ripped  the 
snow-flurries,  lashed  the  bushes,  sent  the  snapped 
twigs  hurtling  through  the  bare  branches,  turned 
every  naked  sod  to  stone.  But  to  the  sleeping  musk- 


298        Ube  TKflatcbers  ot  tbe  trails 

rat  all  the  outside  sound  and  fury  came  but  as  a 
murmur  of  June  trees. 

His  mate,  meanwhile,  was  gobbling  the  lily-root 
as  if  she  had  not  eaten  for  a  week.  Sitting  up  like 
a  squirrel,  and  clutching  the  end  of  the  root  with 
both  little  fore  paws,  she  crushed  the  white  esculent 
into  her  mouth  and  gnawed  at  it  ravenously  with 
the  keen  chisels  of  her  teeth.  The  root  was  as 
long  as  herself,  and  its  weight  perhaps  a  sixth  of 
her  own.  Yet  when  it  was  all  eaten  she  wanted 
more.  There  were  other  pieces  stored  in  the  cham- 
ber; and  indeed  the  whole  house  itself  was  in  great 
part  edible,  being  built  largely  of  such  roots  and 
grasses  as  the  muskrat  loves  to  feed  on.  But  such 
stores  were  for  emergency  use.  She  could  forage 
for  herself  at  present.  Diving  down  the  main  pas- 
sage she  presently  issued  from  the  water-gate,  and 
immediately  rose  to  the  clear-roofed  air-space.  Here 
she  nibbled  tentatively  at  some  stems  and  withered 
leafage.  These  proving  little  to  her  taste,  she  sud- 
denly remembered  a  clam-bed  not  far  off,  and 
instantly  set  out  for  it.  She  swam  briskly  down- 
stream along  the  air-space,  her  eyes  and  nose  just 
out  of  the  water,  the  ice  gleaming  silvery  above 
her  head. 

She  had  travelled  in  this  position  perhaps  fifty 


TTbe  "Keeper  of  tbe  TKflater  *  (Bate     299 

yards  when  she  saw,  some  twelve  or  fifteen  feet 
ahead  of  her,  a  lithe,  dark,  slender  figure  with  a 
sharp-nosed,  triangular  head,  squeeze  itself  over 
a  projecting  root  which  almost  touched  the  ice. 
The  stranger  was  no  larger  than  herself,  —  but  she 
knew  it  was  not  for  her  to  try  conclusions  with 
even  the  smallest  of  minks.  Catching  a  good  lung- 
ful of  air,  she  dived  on  the  instant,  down,  down, 
to  the  very  bed  of  the  creek,  and  out  to  mid-channel. 
The  mink,  eagerly  desirous  of  a  meal  of  muskrat 
meat,  dived  also,  heading  outward  to  interrupt  the 
fugitive.  He  swam  as  well  as  the  muskrat,  — 
perhaps  faster,  indeed,  with  a  darting,  eel-like, 
deadly  swiftness.  But  the  stream  at  this  point  had 
widened  to  a  breadth  of  twelve  or  fifteen  yards,  — 
and  this  was  the  little  muskrat's  salvation.  The 
mink  was  afraid  to  follow  her  to  such  a  distance 
from  the  air-space.  He  knew  that  by  the  time  he 
overtook  her,  and  fixed  his  teeth  in  her  throat,  he 
would  be  fairly  winded;  and  then,  with  no  breath- 
ing-hole at  hand,  he  would  die  terribly,  bumping 
up  against  the  clear  ice  and  staring  madly  through 
at  the  free  air  for  which  his  lungs  were  agonizing. 
His  fierce  heart  failed  him,  and  he  turned  back  to  the 
air-space  under  the  bank.  But  the  sight  of  the  musk- 
rat  had  whetted  his  appetite,  and  when  he  came 


3oo        ZEbe  THttatcbers  of  tbe  tirails 

to  the  muskrat  house  in  the  alders,  he  swam  down 
and  thrust  his  head  inside  the  water-gate.  He  even, 
indeed,  went  half-way  in;  but  soon  instinct,  or  ex- 
perience, or  remembered  instruction,  told  him  that 
the  distance  to  the  air-chamber  was  too  great  for 
him.  He  had  no  more  fancy  to  be  drowned  in  the 
muskrat's  winding  black  tunnel,  than  under  the 
clear  daylight  of  the  ice;  so  he  turned  away,  and 
with  red,  angry  eyes  resumed  his  journey  up-stream. 
The  little  muskrat,  seeing  that  her  enemy  was 
disheartened,  went  on  cheerfully  to  the  clam-bed. 
Here  she  clawed  up  from  the  oozy  bottom  and 
devoured  almost  enough  clams  to  make  a  meal  for 
a  full-grown  man.  But  she  took  longer  over  her 
meal  than  the  man  would,  thereby  saving  herself 
from  an  otherwise  imminent  indigestion.  Each 
bivalve,  as  she  got  it,  she  would  carry  up  to 
the  air-space  among  the  stones,  selecting  a  tus- 
sock of  grass  on  which  she  could  rest  half  out  of  the 
water.  And  every  time,  before  devouring  her  prize, 
she  would  carefully,  though  somewhat  impatiently, 
cleanse  her  face  of  the  mud  and  dead  leafage,  which 
seemed  to  be  an  inseparable  concomitant  of  her  dig- 
ging. When  she  had  eaten  as  many  clams  as  she 
could  stuff  into  her  little  body,  she  hastened  back 
to  join  her  mate  in  the  safe  nest  over  the  water-gate. 


Ube  fceeper  of  tbe  Mater  *  Gate     3°' 

In  the  upper  world  the  winter  was  a  severe  one, 
but  of  all  its  bitterness  the  muskrats  knew  nothing, 
save  by  the  growing  thickness  of  the  ice  that  shel- 
tered them.  As  Bitter  Creek  shrank  to  normal, 
winter  level,  and  the  strong  ice  sank  in  mid-channel, 
the  air-space  along  shore  increased  till  they  had  a 
spacious,  covered  corridor  in  which  to  disport  them- 
selves. Food  was  all  about  them  —  an  unlimited 
abundance  of  lily-roots  and  clams;  and  once  in 
awhile  their  diet  was  varied  by  the  capture  of  a  half- 
torpid  sucker  or  chub.  There  were  no  otters  in  Bitter 
Creek;  and  the  mink,  which  had  investigated  their 
water-gate  so  hungrily,  got  caught  in  a  trap  at  an 
open  spring  up-stream,  where  he  was  accustomed  to 
fish  for  eels.  So  the  muskrats  had  no  dangerous 
enemies  to  mar  their  peace. 

The  spring  thaws  came  suddenly,  while  the  ice 
was  yet  strong,  and  the  flood  went  wide  over  the  low 
banks  of  Bitter  Creek.  But  the  little  house  among 
the  alders  withstood  them  sturdily.  The  water  rose 
till  it  filled  the  lower  chamber.  Inch  by  inch  it 
crept  up  the  last  passage,  till  it  glistened  dimly  just 
an  inch  below  the  threshold.  But  it  never  actually 
touched  that  threshold;  and  the  little  grass-lined 
retreat  stayed  warm  and  dry.  Then  the  ice  went 
out,  under  the  sun  and  showers  of  late  April,  and 


302        ube  Tldatcbers  of  tbe  TTrails 

the  waters  sank  away  as  rapidly  as  they  had  risen; 
and  the  muskrats,  wild  with  the  intoxication  of 
spring,  rolled,  played,  and  swam  gaily  hither  and 
thither  on  the  surface  of  the  open  creek.  They 
made  long  excursions  up  and  down-stream  for  the 
sheer  delight  of  wandering,  and  found  fresh  inter- 
est in  every  clam-flat,  lily  cove,  or  sprouting  bed 
of  sweet-flag.  Their  appetites  they  had  always 
with  them;  and  though  it  was  fun  to  chase  each 
other,  or  to  roll  and  wallow  luxuriously  on  the  cool 
surface  of  the  water  when  the  sun  shone  warm, 
there  was  nothing  quite  so  worth  while,  day  in  and 
day  out,  as  eating.  Other  muskrats  now  appeared, 
the  wander-spirit  seizing  them  all  at  once;  and  the 
males  had  many  fierce  fights,  which  left  their  naked 
tails  scarred  and  bleeding.  But  the  big  muskrat, 
from  the  house  in  the  alders,  was  denied  the  joy 
of  battle,  because  none  of  his  rivals  were  so  hardy 
as  to  confront  him. 

About  this  pleasant  season,  in  the  upper  chamber 
over  the  water-gate,  was  born  a  family  of  nine  very 
small  and  very  naked  young  muskrats.  Their  big 
father  was  amiably  indifferent  to  them,  and  spent 
most  of  his  time,  when  at  home,  in  the  lower  cham- 
ber, which  was  now  dry  and  clean  enough  for  his 
luxurious  tastes.  Their  small  mother,  however, 


TTbe  fteeper  of  tbe  Water*  (Bate     3°3 

was  assiduous  in  her  care;  and  in  an  exceedingly 
short  time  the  youngsters,  very  sleek  and  dark  in 
their  first  fur,  were  investigating  the  wonderful, 
great  world  beyond  their  water-gate.  They  had 
prodigious  appetites,  and  they  grew  prodigiously. 
One,  on  their  very  first  outing,  got  snapped  up  by 
a  greedy  black  duck.  The  attention  of  the  little 
mother  was  just  then  occupied,  and,  never  having 
learned  to  count  up  to  nine,  she,  apparently,  never 
realized  her  loss;  but  she  was  destined  to  avenge 
it,  a  week  or  two  later,  by  eating  two  new-hatched 
ducklings  of  that  same  black  duck's  brood.  An- 
other of  the  little  muskrats  encountered  fate  on 
the  threshold  of  his  existence,  being  snatched  by 
the  hungry  jaws  of  a  large  pickerel,  which  darted 
upon  him  like  lightning  from  under  the  covert  of  a 
lily-pad.  But  in  this  case,  vengeance  was  instant 
and  direct.  The  big  muskrat  chanced  to  be  near 
by.  He  caught  the  pickerel,  while  the  latter  was 
preoccupied  with  his  meal,  bit  clean  through  the 
back  of  his  neck,  and  then  and  there  devoured  nearly 
half  of  him.  In  the  engrossing  task  of  cleaning  his 
fur  after  this  feast,  and  making  his  toilet,  which  he 
did  with  minute  nicety  on  a  stranded  log  by  the 
shore,  he  promptly  forgot  the  loss  to  his  little 
family,  the  wrong  which  he  had  so  satisfactorily 


304        TTbe  Watcbers  ot  tbc  Utatls 

and  appropriately  avenged.  As  for  the  remaining 
seven,  they  proceeded  to  grow  up  as  rapidly  as 
possible,  and  soon  ceased  to  stand  in  any  danger 
of  pickerel  or  mallard. 

Though  fairly  omnivorous  in  his  tastes,  the  big 
muskrat,  like  all  his  tribe,  was  so  content  with  his 
lilies,  flag-root,  and  clams,  that  he  was  not  gener- 
ally regarded  as  a  foe  by  the  birds  and  other  small 
people  of  the  wilderness.  He  was  too  well  fed  to 
be  a  keen  hunter. 

Having  learned  (and  taught  his  fellows)  to 
avoid  muskrat-traps,  the  big  muskrat  enjoyed  his 
lazy  summer  life  on  Bitter  Creek  with  a  care-free 
spirit  that  is  permitted  to  few,  indeed,  of  the  fur- 
tive kindred  of  the  wild.  There  was  no  mink,  as 
we  have  seen,  to  beware  of;  and  as  for  hawks,  he 
ignored  them  as  none  of  the  other  small  wild  crea- 
tures—  squirrels,  hares,  or  even  the  fierce  and 
fearless  weasel  —  could  afford  to  do.  The  hawks 
knew  certain  inconvenient  capacities  of  his  kind. 
When,  therefore,  that  sudden  alarm  would  ring 
clamorous  over  the  still,  brown  woods,  that  shrill 
outcry  of  the  crows,  jays,  and  king-birds,  which 
sends  every  weak  thing  trembling  to  cover,  the 
big  muskrat  would  sit  up,  untroubled,  on  his  log, 
and  go  on  munching  his  flag-root  with  as  fine 


WITH    A    SCREAM    OF  PAIX    AND    FEAR.  THE  BIRD    DROPPED    HIM 


Ube  "Keeper  of  tbe  "CGlater  *  (Bate     305 

an  unconcern  as  if  he  had  been  a  bear  or  a  bull 
moose. 

But  one  day,  one  late,  rose-amber  afternoon, 
when  the  gnats  were  dancing  over  the  glassy  creek, 
he  was  startled  out  of  this  confidence.  He  was 
standing  in  shallow  water,  digging  out  an  obstinate, 
but  tempting  root,  when  there  arose  a  sudden  great 
outcry  from  all  the  birds.  It  meant  "  A  hawk !  — 
A  hawk !  —  A  hawk !  —  A  hawk !  "  He  under- 
stood it  perfectly;  but  he  never  lifted  his  head 
from  his  task.  Next  moment  there  was  a  mighty 
rush  of  wind  in  his  ears;  a  thunderbolt  seemed  to 
strike  him,  frightful  claws  gripped  him,  piercing 
his  back,  and  he  was  swept  into  the  air.  But  it  was 
a  young  hawk,  unversed  in  the  way  of  the  muskrat, 
which  had  seized  him.  What  those  steely  claws 
really  clutched  was  little  more  than  a  roll  of  loose 
skin.  Hurt,  but  not  daunted,  the  muskrat  twisted 
his  head  up  and  back,  and  sank  his  long,  punishing 
incisors  into  the  enemy's  thigh.  He  did  not  hang 
on,  in  bulldog  fashion,  but  cut,  cut,  cut,  deep 
through  the  bird's  hard  feather  armour,  and  into 
the  cringing  red  strata  of  veins  and  muscles.  With 
a  scream  of  pain  and  fear,  the  bird  dropped  him, 
and  he  fell  into  the  water.  At  first,  he  dived  deep, 
fearing  a  second  attack,  and  came  up  under  a  tangle 


3o6        Ube  TKHatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

of  grasses,  from  which  he  could  peer  forth  unseen. 
Then,  perceiving  that  the  hawk  had  vanished,  he, 
by  and  by,  came  out  of  the  grass,  and  paddled  to  his 
favourite  log.  He  was  bleeding  profusely,  and  his 
toilet  that  evening  was  long  and  painful.  But  in  a 
few  days  he  was  as  well  as  ever,  with  an  added  con- 
fidence. 

About  this  time,  however,  a  small,  inquisitive, 
and  particularly  bloodthirsty  mink  came  down 
from  the  upper  waters  of  the  creek,  where  game  had 
grown  scarce  under  the  ravages  of  her  insatiable 
and  implacable  family.  One  of  her  special  weak- 
nesses was  for  muskrat-meat,  and  many  a  musk- 
rat  house  she  had  invaded  so  successfully  that  the 
long,  smothering,  black,  drowned  galleries  had  no 
more  terrors  for  her. 

She  came  to  the  house  in  the  alders.  She  noted 
its  size,  and  realized  that  here,  indeed,  was  good 
hunting1.  She  swam  down  to  the  water-gate  at  the 
bottom  of  the  channel,  poked  her  nose  in,  and  re- 
turned to  the  surface  for  a  full  supply  of  air.  Then, 
with  great  speed,  she  dived  again,  and  disappeared 
within  the  blackness  of  the  water-gate. 

It  chanced  that  the  big  muskrat  was  just  descend- 
ing. From  the  inner  darkness  he  saw  the  enemy 
clearly,  before  her  savage,  little,  peering  eyes  could 


Iteeper  of  tbe  Mater  *  (Bate     3°? 

discover  him.  He  knew  all  the  deadliness  of  the 
peril.  He  could  easily  have  escaped,  turning 
back  and  fleeing  by  the  other  passage  while  the 
foe  went  on  to  her  bloody  work  in  the  chambers. 
There  was  no  time  to  warn  the  rest. 

But  flight  was  far  from  the  big  muskrat's  mind 
in  that  crucial  moment.  Not  panic,  but  a  fierce  hate 
blazed  in  his  usually  good-natured  eyes.  With  a 
swift,  strenuous  kick  of  his  powerful  hind  legs,  he 
shot  downward  upon  the  enemy,  and  grappled  with 
her  in  the  narrow  tunnel. 

The  mink  had  seen  him  just  before  he  fell  upon 
her,  and  quicker  than  thought  itself  had  darted  up 
her  snake-like  jaws  to  gain  the  fatal  throat-hold. 
But  long  success  had  made  her  over-confident.  No 
muskrat  had  ever,  within  her  experience,  even 
tried  to  fight  her.  This  present  impetuous  attack 
she  mistook  for  a  frantic  effort  to  crowd  past  her 
and  escape.  Half  careless,  therefore,  she  missed 
the  fatal  hold,  and  caught  only  a  mouthful  of  yield- 
ing skin.  Before  she  could  try  again  —  borne  down 
and  hampered  as  she  was  by  the  muskrat's  weight  — 
a  set  of  long,  tenacious  teeth,  crunching  and  cutting, 
met  in  the  side  of  her  face,  just  at  the  root  of  the 
jaw. 

This  time  the  muskrat  was  wise  enough  to  hold 


3o8        ube  TOlatcbers  of  tbe  Gratis 

on.  His  deep  grip  held  like  a  vise.  The  mink's 
teeth,  those  vindictive  teeth  that  had  killed  and 
killed  for  the  mere  joy  of  killing,  now  gnashed  im- 
potently.  In  utter  silence,  there  in  the  choking  deep, 
the  water  in  their  eyes  and  ears  and  jaws,  they 
writhed  and  strove,  the  mink's  lithe  body  twisting 
around  her  foe  like  a  snake.  Then,  with  a  con- 
vulsive shudder,  her  struggles  ceased.  Her  lungs 
had  refused  to  hold  the  strained  breath  any  longer. 
They  had  opened  —  and  the  water  had  rilled  them. 
Her  body  trailed  out  limply;  and  the  muskrat,  still 
maintaining  that  inexorable  grip,  dragged  her  out 
through  the  water-gate  which  he  had  so  well  kept. 
Out  in  the  brown,  blurred  light  of  the  current  he 
still  held  her  down,  jamming  her  head  into  a  patch 
of  bright  sand,  until  the  ache  of  his  own  lungs 
gave  him  warning.  Then,  carrying  the  body  to  the 
surface,  he  flung  it  scornfully  over  a  root  to  await 
the  revival  of  his  appetite,  and  proceeded  to  calm  his 
excitement  by  a  long,  elaborate  toilet.  Steely  dark 
and  cold  the  waters  of  Bitter  Creek  slipped  by 
between  their  leafless,  bushy  banks.  And  inside 
the  dome  of  the  house  in  the  alders  the  thick-furred 
muskrat  colony  slept  luxuriously,  little  dreaming  of 
the  doom  just  averted  from  their  door. 


f 


TKHben  tbe  flftoose  Cow  Calls 


TKHben  tbe  flftoose  Cow  Calls 

*HE  smell  of  the  burning  rubbish  heaps  — 
the  penetrating  November  smell  — 
spread  up  from  the  clearings  and  filled 


the  chilly,  windless  evening  air.  It  seemed  a  sort 
of  expression  of  the  cold  sky,  those  pale  steel-gray 
and  sea-green  wastes,  deepening  into  sharp  straight 
bands  of  orange  and  smoke  colour  along  the  far 
horizon.  It  seemed  equally  an  expression  of  the 
harsh,  darkening  upland  pastures,  dotted  with 
ragged  stumps  and  backed  by  ragged  forests.  It 
was  the  distinctive  autumn  smell  of  the  backwoods 
settlements,  that  smell  which,  taken  into  the  blood 
in  childhood,  can  never  lose  its  potency  of  magic, 
its  power  over  the  most  secret  springs  of  memory 
and  longing. 

On  the  rude  snake  fence  at  the  back  of  the  pas- 
ture sat  a  boy,  with  a  roll  of  birch  bark  in  his  hands. 
The  bark  was  fashioned  into  the  shape  of  a  fish- 
horn,  and  the  boy  handled  it  proudly.  He  took 
deep  breaths  of  the  pungent-smelling  air,  and  felt 
3" 


TKHatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

an  exciting  thrill  as  he  glanced  over  his  shoulder 
at  the  dark  woods  just  behind  him.  It  was  for 
the  sake  of  this  thrill,  this  delicious  though  un- 
founded apprehension,  that  he  had  come  here  to 
the  very  back  of  the  pasture,  in  the  twilight,  after 
bringing  up  the  cows  from  the  milking.  The  cows 
he  couldn't  see,  for  they  were  feeding  in  the  lower 
pasture,  just  under  the  rise  of  the  hill.  The  lights 
beginning  to  glimmer  in  the  farmhouse  were  very 
far  down  in  the  valley ;  and  very  far  down  were 
the  little  creeping  flames  whence  came  that  pungent 
smell  pervading  the  world;  and  the  boy  felt  his 
spirit  both  expand  and  tremble  before  the  great 
spaces  of  the  solitude. 

It  was  for  the  purpose  of  practising  privately 
the  call  of  the  cow-moose  that  the  boy  had  betaken 
himself  to  the  lonely  back  pasture.  On  the  previous 
evening  an  old  hunter,  just  back  from  a  successful 
"  calling  "  over  on  Nictau  Lake,  had  given  the  boy 
some  lessons  in  this  alluring  and  suggestive  depart- 
ment of  woodcraft,  and  had  made  his  joy  complete 
by  the  gift  of  the  bark  "moose-call"  itself,  a 
battered  old  tube  with  many  "  kills  "  to  its  credit. 
The  boy,  with  his  young  voice  just  roughening 
toward  the  bass  of  manhood,  had  proved  an  apt 
pupil.  And  the  hunter  had  not  only  told  him  that 


Wben  tbe  flDoose  Cow  Calls       3*3 

practice  would  make  him  a  first-class  "  caller,"  but 
had  promised  to  take  him  hunting  next  season. 
This  promise  had  set  the  boy's  imagination  aflame, 
and  all  day  he  had  been  dreaming  of  tall  moose- 
bulls,  wide-antlered,  huge-belled,  black  of  mane 
and  shoulder. 

Of  course,  when  he  went  up  to  the  fence  of  the 
back  pasture  to  practise  his  new  accomplishment, 
the  boy  had  no  idea  of  being  heard  by  anything 
in  the  shape  of  a  bull-moose,  still  less  of  being  able 
to  deceive  that  crafty  animal.  Had  he  imagined 
the  possibility  of  gaining  any  response  to  his  call, 
he  would  have  come  well-armed,  and  would  have 
taken  up  his  post  in  the  branches  of  some 
safe  tree.  But  it  was  getting  near  the  end  of  the 
season,  and  what  was  more  to  the  purpose,  there 
ran  a  tradition  in  the  settlement  that  the  moose 
never  came  east  of  Five  Mile  Creek,  a  water-course 
some  four  miles  back  from  the  fence  whereon  the 
boy  was  sitting.  Such  traditions,  once  established 
in  a  backwoods  village,  acquire  an  authority  quite 
superior  to  fact  and  proof  against  much  ocular 
refutation.  The  boy  had  an  unwavering  faith 
that,  however  seductively  he  might  sound  the  call 
of  the  cow,  never  a  moose  bull  would  hear  him,  be- 
cause never  a  moose  bull  could  be  found  this  side 


3i4        Ube  Udatcbers  ot  tbe  trails 

of  Five  Mile  Creek.  It  was  fascinating  to  pre- 
tend, —  but  he  had  no  will  to  evoke  any  monstrous 
apparition  from  those  dark  woods  behind  him,  on 
which  he  found  it  it  so  thrillingly  hard  to  keep 
his  back  turned. 

After  sitting  silent  and  moveless  for  a  few 
minutes,  listening  to  the  vague,  mysterious  stir 
of  the  -solitude  till  his  eyes  grew  wide  as  a 
watching  deer's,  the  boy  lifted  his  birchen  tube 
in  both  hands,  stretched  his  neck,  and  gave 
forth  the  harsh,  half-bleating  bellow,  or  bray,  with 
which  the  cow-moose  signals  for  a  mate.  It  was 
a  good  imitation  of  what  the  old  hunter  had  done, 
and  the  boy  was  proud  of  it.  In  his  exultation  he 
repeated  it  thrice.  Then  he  stopped  to  listen, — 
pretending,  as  boys  will,  that  he  expected  an  answer. 

The  silence  following  upon  that  sonorous  sound 
seemed  startling  in  its  depth;  and  the  boy  held  his 
breath  lest  he  should  mar  it.  Then  came  an  un- 
expected noise,  at  which  the  boy's  heart  jumped 
into  his  throat,  —  a  sharp  crashing  and  rattling  of 
branches,  as  if  somebody  was  thrashing  the  under- 
brush with  sticks.  It  seemed  to  be  some  hundreds 
of  yards  away,  beyond  the  farthest  fence  of  the  pas- 
ture. For  a  moment  the  boy  wondered  tremulously 
what  it  could  be.  Then  he  thought  he  understood. 


•QHlben  tbe  flDoose  Cow  Calls       3*5 

"  Some  fool  steer's  got  through  the  fence  and  gone 
stumbling  through  the  brush  piles,"  he  muttered  to 
himself.  The  explanation  had  the  merit  of  explain- 
ing; and  when  the  sound  had  ceased  the  boy  once 
more  set  the  bark  trumpet  to  his  lips  and  sounded 
its  harsh  appeal. 

This  time  he  called  twice.  As  he  paused  to  draw 
breath,  a  little  creepy  feeling  on  the  skin  of  his  cheeks 
and  about  the  roots  of  his  hair  made  him  turn  his 
head  and  fix  his  eyes  upon  a  dense  spruce  thicket 
some  twenty  paces  behind  him.  Surely  there  was 
a  movement  among  the  young  spruce  tops.  Almost 
as  smoothly  as  a  mink  slips  from  a  rock  the  boy 
slipt  down  from  his  too  conspicuous  perch  and 
crouched  behind  the  fence.  Peering  between  the 
rails  he  saw  a  tall,  dark  shape,  with  gigantic  head, 
vast  antlers,  and  portentous  bulk  of  shoulder,  step 
noiselessly  from  the  thicket  and  stand  motionless. 
With  a  heart  that  throbbed  in  mingled  exultation 
and  terror,  the  boy  realized  that  he  had  called  a 
bull-moose. 

Huge  as  seemed  its  stature  to  the  boy's  excited 
vision,  the  moose  was  in  reality  a  young  and  rather 
small  bull,  who  had  been  forced  by  stronger  rivals 
to  go  unmated.  Driven  by  his  restless  desire,  he 
had  wandered  beyond  his  wonted  range.  Now  he 


3i6        ttbe  matcbers  ot  tbe  trails 

stood  like  a  statue,  head  uplifted,  peering  on  every 
side  to  catch  sight  of  the  mate  whose  voice  had  so 
resistlessly  summoned  him.  Only  his  wide  ears 
moved,  waving  inquisitively.  His  nostrils,  ordi- 
narily his  chief  source  of  information,  were  dulled 
almost  to  obtuseness  by  that  subtly  acrid  perfume 
of  the  smoke. 

The  boy  in  his  fence  corner,  with  a  gray  stump 
beside  him,  shrank  within  himself  and  stared 
through  half-closed  eyes,  trembling  lest  the  mighty 
stranger  should  detect  him.  He  had  a  very  reason- 
able notion  that  the  mighty  stranger  might  object 
to  the  deception  which  had  been  practised  upon  his 
eager  emotions,  and  might  not  find  the  old  rail 
fence  much  barrier  to  his  righteous  wrath.  For 
all  his  elation,  the  boy  began  to  wish  that  he  had 
not  been  in  such  haste  to  learn  moose-calling. 
"  Don't  call  till  you've  some  idea  who'll  answer !  " 
was  a  rule  which  he  deduced  from  that  night's  ex- 
perience. 

It  is  possible  that  ttie  bull,  during  those  few 
minutes  while  he  stood  waiting  and  watching,  saw 
the  dim  figure  of  the  boy  behind  the  fence.  If  so, 
the  figure  had  no  concern  for  him.  He  caught 
nothing1  of  the  dreaded  man-smell ;  and  he  had  no 
reason  to  associate  that  small,  harmless  creature 


Ttdben  tbe  flDoose  Cow  Calls        317 

with  the  mate  to  whose  calling  he  had  sped  so 
eagerly.  But  there  was  no  doubt  that  the  calling 
had  come  from  this  very  place.  Was  it  possible 
that  the  cow,  more  coquettish  than  her  kind  are  apt 
to  be,  had  hidden  herself  to  provoke  him?  He 
came  closer  to  the  fence,  and  uttered  a  soft  grumble 
in  his  throat,  a  sound  both  caressing  and  appeal- 
ing. "My!  how  disappointed  he'll  be!"  thought 
the  boy,  and  devoutly  wished  himself  safe  at  home. 

At  this  trying  moment  came  relief  from  an  un- 
expected quarter.  That  distant  threshing  of  the 
bushes  which  the  boy  had  heard  after  his  first 
calling  had  not  been  a  stray  steer.  Not  by  any 
means.  It  was  the  response  of  another  young 
wandering  moose  bull,  beating  on  the  underbrush 
with  his  ill-developed,  but  to  himself  quite  wonder- 
ful, antlers.  He,  too,  was  seeking  a  mate  in  a 
region  far  remote  from  that  where  ruled  the  tyran- 
nous elder  bulls.  Silently  and  swiftly,  assured  by  the 
second  summons,  he  had  hurried  to  the  tryst;  and 
now,  to  his  ungovernable  rage,  what  he  saw  await- 
ing him  in  the  dusk  was  no  mate  at  all,  but  a 
rival.  Pausing  not  to  consider  the  odds,  he  burst 
from  the  covert  and  rushed  furiously  to  the  attack. 

The  first  bull,  though  somewhat  the  larger  of 
the  two,  and  by  far  the  better  antlered,  was  taken 


3i8        ube  Watcbers  of  tbe  trails 

at  a  disadvantage.  Before  he  could  whirl  and 
present  his  formidable  front  to  the  charge,  the  new- 
comer caught  him  on  the  flank,  knocked  him  clear 
off  his  feet,  and  sent  him  crashing  into  the  fence. 
The  fence  went  down  like  stubble;  and  the  boy,  his 
eyes  starting  with  astonished  terror,  scurried  like 
a  rabbit  for  the  nearest  tree.  Climbing  into  the 
branches  with  an  agility  which  surprised  even  him- 
self, he  promptly  recovered  from  his  panic  and 
turned  to  watch  the  fight. 

The  first  bull,  saved  from  serious  injury  by  the 
defects  of  his  adversary's  antlers,  picked  himself  up 
from  the  wreckage  of  the  fence,  and,  grunting  with 
anger,  plunged  back  to  meet  his  assailant.  The 
latter,  somewhat  puzzled  by  the  fence  and  its  zig- 
zag twistings,  had  drawn  a  little  to  one  side,  and  so 
it  happened  that  when  the  first  bull  rushed  at  him, 
the  angle  of  a  fence  corner  intervened.  When  the 
opposing  antlers  came  together,  they  met  harm- 
lessly between  the  heavy  rails,  and  got  tangled  in 
a  way  that  seemed  to  daunt  their  owners'  rage.  In 
the  pushing  and  struggling  the  top  rail  was  thrown 
off  and  fell  smartly  across  the  newcomer's  neck. 
At  the  same  time  one  of  the  stakes  flew  up  and 
caught  the  first  bull  fairly  on  the  sensitive  muzzle. 
Sneezing  violently,  he  jumped  back;  and  the  two 


TKIlben  tbe  flDoose  Cow  Calls        3*9 

stood  eyeing  each  other  with  fierce  suspicion  over 
the  top  of  the  fence. 

The  boy  was  trembling  with  excitement  there 
in  his  tree,  eager  for  the  fight  to  go  on  and  eager 
to  see  which  would  win.  But  in  this  he  was  doomed 
to  disappointment.  The  end  came  in  a  most  un- 
looked-for fashion.  It  chanced  that  the  boy's 
"  calling "  had  deceived  others  besides  the  two 
young  bulls.  The  old  hunter,  in  his  cabin  under 
the  hill,  had  heard  it.  He  had  snatched  his  rifle 
from  behind  the  door,  and  stolen  swiftly  up  to  the 
back  pasture. 

From  a  clump  of  hemlock  not  fifty  yards  away 
came  a  red  flash  and  a  sharp  report.  The  bull  on 
the  near  side  of  the  fence  sprang  into  the  air  with 
a  gasping  cough,  and  fell.  The  smaller  bull,  who 
knew  what  guns  meant,  simply  vanished.  It  was 
as  if  the  dusk  had  blotted  him  out,  so  noiselessly 
and  instantaneously  did  he  sink  back  into  the 
thickets ;  and  a  moment  later  he  was  heard  crash- 
ing away  through  the  underbrush  in  mad  flight. 
As  the  hunter  stepped  up  to  examine  his  prize,  the 
boy  dropped  from  the  tree,  grabbed  his  birch-bark 
tube,  and  came  forward  proudly. 

"There  wasn't  any  cow  at  all,  —  'cept  me!"  he 
proclaimed,  his  voice  ringing  with  triumph. 


pa00tng  of  tbe  Black  Wbelps 


OVER  THE  CREST  OF  THE  RIDGE,  INKY  BLACK  FOR  AN  INSTANT 
AGAINST  THE  MOON,  CAME  A  LEAPING  DEER  " 


passing  of  tbe  «lacfc  TOelps 


LOPSIDED,    waning    moon,    not    long 
risen,   looked   over  the  ragged  crest  of 
jg^n^  the  ridge,  and  sent  long  shadows  down 
thelsparsely  wooded  slope.     Though  there  was  no 
wind,  and  every  tree  was  as  motionless  as  if  carved 
of  ice,  these  spare,  intricate  shadows  seemed  to  stir 
and  writhe,  as  if  instinct  with  a  kind  of  sinister 
activity.    This  confusion  of  light  and  dark  was  in- 
creased by  the  patches  of  snow  that  still  clung  in 
the  dips  and  on  the  gentler  slopes.     The  air  was 
cold,  yet  with  a  bitter  softness  in  it,  the  breath  of 
the  thaw.    The  sound  of  running  water  was  every- 
where_the   light    clamour   of    rivulets,    and   the 
rush  of  the  swollen  brooks;  while  from  the  bottom 
of  the  valley  came  the  deep,  pervading  voice  of  the 
river  at  freshet,  labouring  between  high  banks  with 
its  burden  of  sudden  flood. 

Over  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  inky  black  for  an 
instant  against  the  moon,   came  a  leaping  deer. 
323 


324        Ube  Matcbers  of  tbe  trails 

He  vanished  in  a  patch  of  young  firs.  He  shot  out 
again  into  the  moonlight.  Down  the  slope  he 
came  in  mighty  bounds,  so  light  of  foot  and  so 
elastic  that  he  seemed  to  float  through  the  air. 
From  his  heaving  sides  and  wild  eyes  it  was  evident 
that  he  was  fleeing  in  desperation  from  some  appal- 
ling terror.  Straight  down  the  slope  he  came,  to 
the  very  brink  of  the  high  bluff  overlooking  the 
river.  There  he  wheeled,  and  continued  his  flight 
up  the  valley,  his  violent  shadow  every  now  and 
then,  as  he  crossed  the  spaces  of  moonlight,  project- 
ing grotesquely  out  upon  the  swirling  flood. 

Up  along  the  river  bluff  he  fled  for  perhaps  a 
mile.  Then  he  stopped  suddenly  and  listened,  his 
sensitive  ears  and  dilating  nostrils  held  high  to 
catch  the  faintest  waft  of  air.  Not  a  sound  came 
to  him,  except  the  calling  of  the  waters ;  not  ?  scent, 
save  the  raw  freshness  of  melting  snow  and  the 
balsamic  tang  of  buds  just  beginning  to  thrill  to  the 
first  of  the  rising  sap.  He  bounded  on  again  for 
perhaps  a  hundred  yards,  then  with  a  tremendous 
leap  sprang  to  one  side,  a  full  thirty  feet,  landing 
belly-deep  in  a  thicket  of  scrub  juniper.  Another 
leap,  as  if  he  were  propelled  by  steel  springs,  carried 
him  yet  another  thirty  feet  aside.  Then  he  turned, 
ran  back  a  couple  of  hundred  yards'  parallel  to  his 


passing  ot  tbe  Blacfc  TSUbelps  325 

old  trail,  and  lay  down  in  a  dense  covert  of  spruces 
to  catch  breath  and  ease  his  pounding  heart.  He 
was  a  very  young  buck,  not  yet  seasoned  in  the 
craft  of  the  wilderness,  and  his  terror  shook  him. 
But  he  knew  enough  to  take  his  snatched  rest  at 
the  very  edge  of  his  covert,  where  his  eyes  could 
watch  the  back  trail.  For  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
however,  nothing  appeared  along  that  staring  trail. 
Then  he  got  up  nervously  and  resumed  his  flight, 
still  ascending  the  valley,  but  now  slanting  away 
from  the  river,  and  gradually  climbing  back  toward 
the  crest  of  the  ridge.  He  had  in  mind  a  wide  reach 
of  swales  and  flooded  meadows,  still  miles  away, 
wherein  he  might  hope  to  elude  the  doom  that 
followed  him. 

Not  long  after  the  buck  had  vanished  there  arose 
a  strange  sound  upon  the  still,  wet  air.  It  came  in 
a  rising  and  falling  cadence  from  far  behind  the 
ridge,  under  the  lopsided  moon.  It  was  a  high,  con- 
fused sound,  not  unmusical,  but  terrifying  —  a  cry 
of  many  voices.  It  drifted  up  into  the  silvery  night, 
wavered  and  diminished,  swelled  again,  and  then 
died  away,  leaving  a  sense  of  fear  upon  the  quiet 
that  followed.  The  soft  clamour  of  the  waters, 
when  one  noticed  them  again,  seemed  to  have  taken 
a  new  note  from  the  menace  of  that  cadenced  cry. 


326        ube  THflatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

Presently  over  the  top  of  the  ridge,  at  the  gap 
wherein  had  first  appeared  the  form  of  the  leap- 
ing buck,  a  low,  dark  shape  came,  moving  sinuously 
and  with  deadly  swiftness.  It  did  not  bound  into 
the  air  and  float,  as  the  buck  had  seemed  to  do,  but 
slid  smoothly,  like  a  small,  dense  patch  of  cloud- 
shadow —  a  direct,  inevitable  movement,  wasting 
no  force  and  fairly  eating  up  the  trail  of  the  fleeing 
deer. 

As  it  came  down  the  slope,  disappearing  in  the 
hemlock  groves  and  emerging  upon  the  bright, 
snowy  hollows,  the  dread  shape  resolved  itself  into 
a  pack  of  seven  wolves.  They  ran  so  close,  so 
evenly,  with  fanged  muzzles  a  little  low,  and  ample, 
cloudy  tails  a  little  high,  that  one  might  have  almost 
covered  the  whole  deadly  pack  with  a  table-cloth. 
Their  tongues  were  hanging  out,  and  their  eyes  shot 
green  fire.  They  were  fiercely  hungry,  for  game 
was  scarce  and  cunning  that  winter  on  their  much 
ravaged  range,  and  this  chase  was  already  a  long 
one.  When  the  trail  of  the  buck  wheeled  at  the 
river-brink,  the  leader  of  the  pack  gave  one  short 
howl  as  he  turned,  barely  escaping  the  abyss.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  the  buck  must  have  been  nearly 
winded,  or  he  would  not,  even  for  an  instant,  have 
contemplated  taking  to  such  mad  water.  With  the 


Ube  passing  ot  tbe  JSlacfc  "QBlbelpa  327 

renewed  vigour  of  encouragement,  he  swept  his 
pack  along  up  the  edge  of  the  bluff. 

On  the  pack-leader's  right  flank  ran  a  sturdy  wolf 
of  a  darker  colour  than  his  fellows  —  nearly  black, 
indeed,  on  the  top  of  his  head,  over  his  shoulders, 
and  along  his  stiff-haired  backbone.  Not  quite  so 
tall  or  so  long-flanked  as  the  leader,  he  had  that 
greater  breadth  of  skull  between  the  eyes  which 
betokens  the  stronger  intelligence,  the  more  indi- 
vidualized resourcefulness.  He  had  a  look  in  his 
deep-set,  fierce  eye  which  seemed  to  prophesy  that 
unless  the  unforeseen  should  happen  he  would  ere 
long  seize  the  leadership  to  himself. 

But  —  the  unforeseen  did  happen,  at  that  moment. 
The  trail,  just  there,  led  across  a  little  dip  wherein 
the  snow  still  lingered.  Thinly  covered  by  the  snow 
lay  a  young  pine-tree,  lightning  shivered  and  long 
dead.  Thrust  up  from  the  trunk  was  a  slim,  sharp- 
pointed  stub,  keen  and  hard  and  preserved  by  its 
resin.  Upon  this  hidden  dagger-point,  as  he  ran, 
the  dark  wolf  planted  his  right  fore  foot  —  planted 
it  fair  and  with  a  mighty  push.  Between  the  spread- 
ing toes,  between  the  fine  bones  and  sinews  and  the 
cringing  nerves  of  the  foot,  and  out  by  the  first  joint 
of  the  leg  it  thrust  its  rending  way. 

At  the  suddenness  of  the  anguish  the  dark  wolf 


328        abe  Matcbers  of  tbe  trails 

yelped,  falling  forward  upon  his  muzzle  as  he  did 
so,  and  dropping  from  his  place  as  the  pack  sped 
on.  But  as  he  wrenched  his  foot  free  and  took  one 
stumbling  stride  forward,  the  pack  stopped,  and 
turned.  Their  long  white  fangs  snapped,  and  the 
fire  in  their  eyes  took  a  different  hue. 

Very  well  the  dark  wolf  knew  the  meaning  of 
the  halt,  the  turn,  the  change  in  his  fellows'  eyes. 
He  knew  the  stern  law  of  the  pack  —  the  instant 
and  inevitable  doom  of  its  hurt  member.  The 
average  gray  wolf  knows  how  to  accept  the 
inevitable.  Fate  itself  —  the  law  of  the  pack  —  he 
does  not  presume  to  defy.  He  will  fight  —  to  jus- 
tify his  blood,  and,  perhaps,  to  drug  his  despair  and 
die  in  the  heat  of  the  struggle.  But  he  does  not 
dream  of  trying  to  escape. 

And  in  this  fashion,  fighting  in  silence,  this  dark 
wolf  would  have  died  at  the  brink  of  the  river  bluff, 
and  been  eaten  by  his  fellows  ere  they  continued 
their  chase  of  the  leaping  buck  —  in  this  fashion 
would  he  have  died,  but  for  that  extra  breadth  of 
skull  between  the  eyes,  that  heightened  individu- 
alism and  resourcefulness.  Had  there  been  any 
chance  to  escape  by  fighting,  fighting  would  have 
been  the  choice  of  his  fierce  and  hardy  spirit.  But 
what  was  he  against  six? 


Ube  {passing  of  tbe  Blacfc  Wbelps  329 

Defying  the  fiery  anguish  in  his  foot,  he  made 
a  desperate  leap  which  took  him  to  the  extreme  over- 
hanging edge  of  the  bluff.  Already  the  jaws  of 
the  executioners  were  gnashing  at  his  heels.  A 
second  more  and  they  would  have  been  at  his  throat. 
But  before  that  second  passed  he  was  in  mid-air,  his 
legs  spread  wide  like  those  of  a  squirrel,  falling  to 
the  ice-cakes  of  the  swollen  river.  From  the  brink 
above,  the  grim  eyes  of  the  baffled  pack  flamed 
down  upon  him  for  an  instant,  and  then  withdrew. 
What  was  a  drowned  wolf,  when  there  was  a 
winded  buck  not  far  ahead? 

But  the  black-shouldered  wolf  was  not  drowned. 
The  flood  was  thick,  indeed,  with  crunching  ice- 
cakes  and  wallowing  logs  and  slowly  turning  islets 
of  uprooted  trees  and  the  debris  of  the  winter  forest. 
But  fortune  so  favoured  the  wolf  that  he  fell  in  a 
space  of  clear  water,  instead  of  being  dashed  to 
a  pulp  on  ice-cake  or  tree  trunk.  He  disappeared, 
came  to  the  surface  gasping,  struck  out  hardily 
through  the  grim  and  daunting  turmoil,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  gaining  one  of  those  islets  of  toughly 
interlaced  debris  which  turned  slowly  in  the  flood. 
Upon  this  precarious  refuge,  crouched  shivering 
on  the  largest  tree  root  and  licking  persistently  at 


330        trbe  Matcbers  of  tbe  trails 

his  wounded  paw,  he  was  carried  swiftly  down- 
stream through  the  roar  of  waters. 


n. 

When  the  lopsided  rnoon,  now  hung  high  over 
a  low,  desolate  shore  of  blanched  rampikes,  was  fad- 
ing to  a  papery  whiteness  against  a  sky  of  dawn, 
the  roar  of  the  river  grew  louder,  and  the  islet,  no 
longer  slowly  revolving,  plunged  forward,  through 
a  succession  of  wallowing  waves,  over  a  wild  half- 
mile  of  ledges,  and  joined  itself  to  a  wider  and 
mightier  stream.  The  wolf,  drenched,  shivering, 
and  appalled  by  the  tumult,  clung  to  his  refuge  by 
tooth  and  claw ;  and  the  islet,  being  well  compacted, 
held  together  through  the  wrenching  plunges,  and 
carried  its  burden  safely  forth  upon  the  quiet  cur- 
rent. 

For  a  day  and  a  night  and  a  day  the  starving 
wolf  voyaged  down  the  flood,  till  his  gaunt  sides 
clung  together,  and  a  fierce  ache  gnawed  at  his 
vitals.  But  with  the  fasting  and  the  ceaseless  sooth- 
ing of  his  tongue  his  wound  rapidly  healed;  and 
when,  after  sunset  of  his  second  evening  on  the 
river,  the  islet  grounded  in  an  eddy  under  the  bank, 
he  sprang  ashore  with  speed  little  impaired.  Only 


passing  of  tbe  Black  Wbelps  33* 

a  limp  and  an  ache  remained  to  remind  him  of  the 
hurt  which  had  so  nearly  cost  him  his  life  and  had 
exiled  him  to  untried  hunting-grounds. 

His  feet  once  more  on  firm  ground,  the  wolf 
halted  warily.  The  air  that  came  down  the  bank 
carried  a  strange  and  warning  scent.  Noiselessly 
he  crept  up  the  steep,  went  through  a  few  yards 
of  shrubbery  like  a  ghost,  and  peered  forth  upon 
a  rough  back-settlement  road.  At  one  side  he  saw 
a  cabin,  with  a  barn  near  it,  and  two  long-horned 
steers  (he  had  seen  steers  at  a  lumber  camp  in  his 
own  wild  land),  thrusting  their  muzzles  over  the 
fence.  Down  the  road  toward  the  cabin  came  a 
man,  in  gray  homespun  and  cowhide  larrigans,  with 
an  axe  over  his  shoulder.  It  was  the  man-smell 
which  had  made  the  wolf  so  cautious. 

With  savage  but  curious  eyes  he  watched  the 
man,  with  no  thought  of  attacking  alone  so  re- 
doubtable a  foe.  Presently  the  latter  began  to 
whistle,  and  at  the  incomprehensible  sound  the  wolf 
shrank  back,  fear  mingled  with  his  curiosity.  But 
when  the  man  was  well  past,  there  came  a  new  scent 
upon  the  air,  a  scent  quite  unknown  to  him;  and 
then  a  small  black  and  white  cur  trotted  into  view, 
nosing  along  the  roadside  in  quest  of  chipmunks. 
The  jaws  of  the  starving  wolf  dripped  water  at 


332        zrbe  Matcbers  of  tbe  trails 

the  sight.  He  gathered  himself  for  a  rush.  He 
saw  that  the  man  had  disappeared.  The  dog  ran 
across  the  road,  sniffing  a  new  chipmunk  trail, 
and  halted,  in  sudden  apprehension,  not  five  feet 
from  the  hidden  wolf.  There  was  a  rustle,  a  leap, 
a  sharp  yelp ;  and  the  wolf  was  back  into  cover  with 
his  prey. 

Emboldened  by  the  success  of  this,  his  first  hunt- 
ing in  the  unknown  land,  the  wolf  slept  for  a  few 
hours  in  his  bushy  retreat,  and  then,  when  the  mis- 
shapen moon  was  up,  went  prowling  cautiously 
around  the  outskirts  of  the  scattered  little  settle- 
ment. Everywhere  the  man-smell  kept  him  on  his 
guard.  Once  he  was  careless  enough  to  get  between 
the  wind  and  a  farmyard,  whereupon  a  watchful 
cur  started  a  barking,  which  was  taken  up  and  kept 
up  for  an  hour  by  all  the  dogs  of  the  village.  At 
this  the  wolf,  with  snarling,  contemptuous  jaws 
apart,  withdrew  to  a  knoll,  sat  quietly  erect  upon 
his  haunches,  and  waited  for  the  din  to  subside. 
He  noted  carefully  the  fact  that  one  or  two  men 
were  aroused  by  the  alarm,  and  came  out  to  see 
what  was  the  matter.  When  all  was  quiet  again 
he  sought  the  house  of  the  nearest  yelper,  took  him 
by  surprise,  and  killed  him  in  sheer  rage,  leaving 
his  torn  body  beside  the  very  door-step,  instead  of 


"HE   BARED    HIS    FANGS    DISDAINFULLY." 


passing  of  tbe  JSlacfe  TKttbelps  333 

dragging  it  away  for  a  later  meal.  This  was  a  mis- 
take in  hunting  craft.  Had  he  been  more  familiar 
with  the  man-folk,  his  wide-skulled  intelligence 
would  have  taught  him  better  than  to  leave  a  clue 
behind  him  in  this  careless  fashion. 

From  the  farmyard  he  wandered  back  toward 
the  hills,  and  came  upon  a  lonely  sheep  pasture. 
Here  he  found  killing  so  easy  that  he  slew  in  wan- 
tonness; and  then,  about  daybreak,  gorged  and 
triumphant,  withdrew  to  a  rocky  hillside,  where  he 
found  a  lair  to  his  taste. 

Later  in  the  day,  however,  he  realized  his  mistake. 
He  had  called  down  upon  himself  the  wrath  of  the 
man-folk.  A  din  of  dogs  aroused  him,  and,  mount- 
ing a  rock,  he  saw  a  motley  crowd  of  curs  upon  his 
trail,  with  half  a  dozen  men  following  far  behind 
them.  He  bared  his  fangs  disdainfully,  then  turned 
and  sought  the  forest  at  a  long  gallop,  which,  for 
all  his  limp  and  his  twinge,  soon  carried  him  beyond 
ear-shot  of  his  pursuers. 

For  hours  he  pressed  on  ever  eastward,  with  a  lit- 
tle trend  to  the  south,  crossing  many  a  trail  of  deer, 
caribou,  and  moose,  passing  here  and  there  a  beaver 
village,  and  realizing  that  he  had  come  to  wonder- 
ful hunting-grounds.  But  when  he  came  to  the 
outskirts  of  another  settlement,  he  halted.  His  jaws 


334        ttbe  WUtcbers  of  tbe  trails 

ran  water  at  the  thought  of  finding  another  sheep 
pasture,  and  he  decided  to  range  for  awhile  in 
this  neighbourhood.  He  was  quick  to  realize  the 
disadvantage  of  man's  proximity,  but  he  would  dare 
it  for  a  little  before  retiring  into  the  untainted 
wilderness.  He  had  learned  his  lesson  quickly,  how- 
ever. That  night  he  refrained  from  stirring  up 
the  dogs  of  the  settlement;  and  he  killed  but  one 
sheep,  in  a  secluded  corner  of  the  pasture. 

Now,  by  singular  chance,  it  happened  that  at  this 
particular  settlement  there  was  already  a  sheep- 
killer  harrying  the  thick-wooled  flocks.  A  wander- 
ing peddler,  smitten  with  a  fever  while  visiting  the 
settlement,  had  died,  and  left  to  pay  for  his  board 
and  burial  only  his  pack  and  his  dog.  The  dog,  so 
fiercely  devoted  to  him  as  to  have  made  the  funeral 
difficult,  was  a  long-legged,  long-haired,  long- 
jawed  bitch,  apparently  a  cross  between  a  collie 
and  a  Scotch  deerhound.  So  unusual  a  beast,  mak- 
ing all  the  other  dogs  of  the  settlement  look  con- 
temptible, was  in  demand;  but  she  was  deaf,  for 
a  time,  to  all  overtures.  For  a  week  she  pined  for 
the  dead  peddler;  and  then,  with  an  air  of  scorn- 
ful tolerance,  consented  to  take  up  her  abode  with 
the  village  shopkeeper.  Her  choice  was  made  not 
for  any  distinction  in  the  man,  but  for  a  certain 


passing  of  tbe  JSlacfc  TOlbelps  335 

association,  apparently,  with  the  smiell  of  the  con- 
tents of  her  late  master's  pack.  For  months  she 
sulked  and  was  admired,  making  friends  with  neither 
man,  woman,  nor  child,  and  keeping  all  the  village 
curs  at  a  respectful  distance. 

A  few  days,  however,  before  the  arrival  of  the 
journeying  wolf,  a  new  interest  had  entered  into 
the  life  of  the  long-jawed  bitch.  Her  eyes  resumed 
their  old  bright  alertness,  and  she  grew  perceptibly 
less  ungracious  to  the  loafers  gathered  around  the 
stove  in  the  back  store.  She  had  entered  upon  a 
career  which  would  have  ended  right  speedily  with 
a  bullet  in  her  reckless  brain,  but  for  an  utterly  un- 
looked-for freak  of  fate.  She  had  discovered  that, 
if  every  night  she  could  hunt,  run  down,  and  kill 
one  sheep,  life  might  again  become  worth  living, 
and  the  coarse-clodded  grave  in  the  little  lonely 
cemetery  might  be  forgotten.  It  was  not  the  kill- 
ing, but  the  chase,  that  she  craved.  The  killing  was, 
of  course,  merely  the  ecstatic  culmination.  So  she 
went  about  the  sport  with  artistic  cunning.  To 
disguise  her  trail  she  came  upon  the  flocks  from 
the  side  of  the  forest,  as  any  wild  beast  would. 
Then  she  would  segregate  her  victim  with  a  skill 
born  of  her  collie  ancestry,  set  it  running,  madden 
it  to  the  topmost  delirium  of  fear  and  flight,  and 


336        zrbe  TKflatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

almost  let  it  escape  before  darting  at  its  throat  and 
ending  the  game  with  the  gush  of  warm  blood  be- 
tween her  jaws. 

Such  had  been  her  adventures  for  three  nights: 
and  already  the  settlement  was  concerned,  and  al- 
ready glances  of  half- formed  suspicion  had  been 
cast  upon  the  long-legged  bitch  so  innocently  asleep 
by  the  stove,  when  the  wandering  wolf  arrived  upon 
the  outskirts  of  the  settlement.  The  newcomer  was 
quick  to  note  and  examine  the  tracks  of  a  pecul- 
iarly large  dog  —  a  foeman,  perhaps,  to  prove  not 
unworthy  of  his  fangs.  And  he  conducted  his  rec- 
onnoitring with  more  care.  Then  he  came  upon 
the  carcass  of  a  sheep,  torn  and  partly  eaten.  It 
was  almost  like  a  wolf's  work  —  though  less  cleanly 
done  —  and  the  smell  of  the  cold  trail  was  un- 
mistakably dog.  The  black-backed  wolf  was  puz- 
zled. He  had  a  vague  notion  that  dogs  were  the 
protectors,  not  the  hunters,  of  all  the  four-legged 
kindred  belonging  to  men.  The  problem  seemed 
to  him  an  important  one.  He  crouched  in  am- 
bush near  the  carcass  to  consider  it  for  a  time,  be- 
fore setting  out  upon  his  own  sheep-hunting. 

As  he  crouched,  watching,  he  saw  the  killer  ap- 
proach. He  saw  a  tall,  lean  bitch  comfe  up,  tear 
carelessly  at  the  dead  sheep  for  a  moment  or  two,  in 


passing  of  tbe  JBlacfe  Mbelps  337 

a  manner  of  ownership,  and  turn  to  leave.  She 
was  as  long  in  leg  and  flank  as  himself,  and  pos- 
sessed of  the  like  punishing  jaws;  but  she  was  not 
so  massive  in  the  shoulder.  The  wolf  felt  that  he 
could  master  her  in  combat;  but  he  felt  no  dispo- 
sition for  the  fight.  The  dog-smell  that  came  to 
his  nostrils  did  not  excite  the  usual  hot  aversion. 
On  the  contrary,  it  made  him  desire  to  know  more 
of  the  sheep-killing  stranger. 

But  acquaintance  is  not  made  lightly  among  the 
wild  kindred,  who  are  quick  to  resent  a  presump- 
tion. The  wolf  slipped  noiselessly  back  into  his 
covert,  emerged  upon  the  farther  side  of  the  thicket, 
and  at  a  distance  of  some  twenty  paces  stood  forth 
in  the  glimmering  light.  To  attract  the  tall  bitch's 
attention  he  made  a  soft,  whining  sound. 

At  the  unexpected  noise  behind  her  the  bitch 
wheeled  like  lightning.  At  sight  of  the  big  wolf 
the  hair  rose  along  her  back,  her  fangs  bared  them- 
selves dangerously,  and  she  growled  a  deep  note  of 
challenge.  For  some  seconds  the  wolf  thought  she 
would  fly  at  him;  but  he  stood  motionless,  tail  droop- 
ing humbly,  tongue  hanging  a  little  way  from  his 
lips,  a  soft  light  in  his  eyes.  Then  he  sat  back  upon 
his  haunches,  let  his  tongue  hang  out  still  farther, 


338        Ube  TWlatcbers  of  tbe  ZTrafls 

and  drooped  his  head  a  little  to  one  side  —  the  pic- 
ture of  conciliation  and  deference. 

The  long- jawed  bitch  had  never  before  seen  a 
wolf,  but  she  recognized  him  at  once  as  a  natural 
enemy.  There  was  something  in  his  attitude  of  un- 
offending confidence,  however,  which  made  her  hes- 
itate to  attack,  although  he  was  plainly  a  trespasser. 
As  she  eyed  him,  she  felt  her  anger  melting  away. 
How  like  he  was  to  certain  big,  strong  dogs  which 
she  had  seen  once  or  twice  in  her  wanderings  with 
the  peddler !  and  how  unlike  to  the  diminutive,  yelp- 
ing curs  of  the  settlement!  Her  bristling  hairs 
smoothed  themselves,  the  skin  of  her  jaws  relaxed 
and  set  itself  about  her  teeth  in  a  totally  different 
expression;  her  growling  ceased,  and  she  gave  an 
amicable  whine.  Diffidently  the  two  approached 
each  other,  and  in  a  few  minutes  a  perfect  under- 
standing was  established. 

That  night  they  hunted  sheep  together.  In  the 
joy  of  comradeship  and  emulation,  prudence  was 
scattered  to  the  winds,  and  they  held  a  riot  of 
slaughter.  When  day  broke  a  dozen  or  more  sheep 
lay  dead  about  the  pastures.  And  the  wolf,  know- 
ing that  men  and  dogs  would  soon  be  noisy  on  their 
trail,  led  his  new-found  mate  far  back  into  the 
wilderness. 


passing  ot  tbe  iBlacfe  Mbelps  339 


in. 

The  tall  bitch,  hating  the  settlement  and  all  the 
folk  therein,  was  glad  to  be  quit  of  it.  And  she 
found  the  hunting  of  deer  far  more  thrilling  than 
the  tame  pursuit  of  sheep.  Slipping  with  curious 
ease  the  inherited  sympathies  of  her  kind,  she  fell 
into  the  ways  of  the  wild  kindred,  save  for  a  certain 
brusque  openness  which  she  never  succeeded  in 
laying  off. 

For  weeks  the  strangely  mated  pair  drifted  south- 
ward through  the  bright  New  Brunswick  spring, 
to  come  to  a  halt  at  last  in  a  region  to  their  liking 
between  the  St.  John  and  the  Chiputneticook  chain  of 
lakes.  It  was  a  land  of  deer  and  rabbits  and  ducks, 
with  settlements  small  and  widely  scattered;  a  land 
where  never  a  wolf  -snout  had  been  seen  for  half 
a  hundred  years.  And  here,  on  a  thick-wooded 
hill-slope,  the  wanderers  found  a  dry  cave  and  made 
it  their  den. 

In  due  course  the  long-jawed  bitch  bore  a  litter 
of  six  sturdy  whelps,  which  throve  amazingly.  As 
they  grew  up  they  showed  almost  all  wolf,  harking 
back  to  the  type  —  save  that  in  colour  they  were 
nearly  black,  with  a  touch  of  tan  in  the  gray  of 
their  under  parts.  When  they  came  to  maturitv. 


34°        ttbe  TPdatcbers  of  tbe  trails 

and  were  accredited  hunters  all,  they  were  in  general 
larger  and  more  savage  than  either  of  their  parents, 
differing  more  widely,  one  from  another,  than  would 
the  like  number  of  full-blooded  wolves.  The  eight, 
when  they  hunted  together,  made  a  pack  which, 
for  strength,  ferocity,  and  craft,  no  like  number 
of  full-blooded  wolves  in%  all  Canada  could  have 
matched. 

The  long-jawed  bitch,  whose  highly  developed 
brain  guided,  for  the  most  part,  the  destinies  of  the 
pack,  for  a  time  kept  them  from  the  settlement 
and  away  from  the  contact  with  men;  and  the 
existence  of  wolves  in  the  Chiputneticook  country 
was  not  dreamed  of  among  the  backwoods  settle- 
ments. In  this  policy  she  was  backed  by  the  sagac- 
ity and  strength  of  her  mate,  under  whose  wide- 
arched  skull  was  a  clear  perception  of  the  truth  that 
man  is  the  one  master  animal.  But  the  hybrid 
whelps,  by  some  perversion  of  inherited  instinct, 
hated  man  savagely,  and  had  less  dread  of  him  than 
either  of  their  parents.  More  than  once  was  the 
authority  of  the  leaders  sharply  strained  to  prevent 
a  disastrous  attack  upon  some  unsuspecting  pair 
of  lumbermen,  with  their  ox-team  and  their  axes. 

The  second  winter  of  the  wolves  in  the  Chiput- 
neticook country  proved  a  very  hard  one  —  game 


"  THEY  PROWLED  AND  HOWLED  ABOUT  THE  DOOR " 


passing  of  tbe  JSlacfe  Udbelps  341 

scarce  and  hunting  difficult;  and  toward  the  end 
of  February  the  pack  drew  in  toward  the  settle- 
ments, in  the  hope  of  more  abundant  foraging. 
Fate  promptly  favoured  the  move.  Some  sheep, 
and  a  heifer  or  two,  were  easily  killed,  with  no 
calamitous  result;  and  the  authority  of  the  leaders 
was  somewhat  discredited.  Three  of  the  young 
wolves  even  went  so  far  as  to  besiege  a  solitary- 
cabin,  where  a  woman  and  some  trembling  children 
awaited  the  return  of  the  man.  For  two  hideous 
moonlit  hours  they  prowled  and  howled  about  the 
door,  sniffing  at  the  sill,  and  grinning  in  through 
the  low  window ;  and  when  the  sound  of  bells  came 
near  they  withdrew  sullenly,  half-minded  to  attack 
the  man  and  horse. 

A  few  nights  after  this,  when  the  pack  was  fol- 
lowing together  the  discouraging  trail  of  a  long- 
winded  and  wily  buck,  they  crossed  the  trail  of  a 
man  on  snow-shoes.  This  trail  was  fresher,  and 
to  the  young  wolves  it  seemed  to  promise  easier 
hunting.  The  leaders  were  overruled,  and  the  new 
trail  was  taken  up  with  heat. 

The  trail  was  that  of  a  gaunt,  tan-faced  back- 
woodsman, on  his  way  to  a  lumber  camp  a  few  miles 
down  the  other  side  of  the  lake.  He  was  packing 
a  supply  of  light  needfuls,  of  which  the  lumbermen 


34*        Ube  TKflatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

had  unexpectedly  run  short,  and  he  was  pressing 
forward  in  haste  to  avoid  a  second  night  on  the 
trail.  The  pack  was  carried  high  on  his  powerful 
shoulders,  in  a  manner  to  interfere  as  little  as  possi- 
ble with  his  long,  snow-shoeing  stride.  In  one  hand 
he  carried  his  axe.  From  under  the  brim  of  his 
coonskin  cap  his  piercing  gray  eyes  kept  watch  with 
a  quiet  alertness  —  expecting  no  danger,  indeed, 
and  fearing  none,  but  trained  to  cool  readiness  for 
every  vicissitude  of  the  wild. 

He  was  travelling  through  a  stretch  of  heavy 
timber,  where  the  moonlight  came  down  in  such 
scant  streaks  that  he  had  trouble  in  picking  a  clear 
path,  when  his  ear  was  caught  by  an  unwonted 
sound  far  behind  himi.  He  paused  to  listen,  no  un- 
wonted sound  being  matter  of  indifference  to  them 
who  range  the  wood.  It  came  again,  long-drawn 
and  high  and  cadenced.  The  big  woodsman  looked 
surprised.  "  I'd  'a'  took  my  oath,"  said  he  to  him- 
self, "  ther*  wa'n't  a  wolf  in  New  Brunswick !  But 
I  knowed  the  deer'd  bring  'em  back  afore  long !  " 
Then,  unconcernedly,  he  resumed  his  tramp,  such 
experience  as  he  had  had  with  wolves  in  the  West 
having  convinced  him  that  they  would  not  want 
to  meddle  with  a  man. 

In  a  few  minutes,  however,  the  instinct  of  the 


Ube  passing  of  tbe  JSlacfc  TKHbelps  343 

woods  awoke  in  him  suddenly,  and  told  him  that 
it  was  not  some  buck,  but  himself,  whom  the  hunt- 
ing- pack  were  trailing.  Then  the  sound  came  again, 
perceptibly  nearer,  though  still  far  off.  The  woods- 
man gave  a  grunt  of  impatience,  angry  to  think 
that  any  four-foot  creature  of  the  forest  should 
presume  to  hunt  him.  But  the  barest  prudence  told 
him  that  he  should  make  haste  for  the  open.  Under 
protest,  as  it  were,  he  broke  into  a  long  trot,  and 
swerved  to  the  right,  that  he  might  sooner  reach 
the  lake. 

As  he  ran,  the  novel  experience  of  feeling  him- 
self pursued  got  on  his  nerves,  and  filled  him  with 
rage.  Were  there  not  plenty  of  deer  in  the  woods? 
he  thought,  indignantly.  He  would  teach  the  ver- 
min a  lesson.  Several  times  he  was  on  the  point 
of  stopping  and  waiting,  to  have  it  out  with  them 
as  soon  as  possible.  But  wisdom  prevailed,  and 
he  pushed  on  to  the  open.  On  the  lake,  the  moonlit 
snow  was  packed  hard,  and  the  running  good. 
About  a  mile  from  shore  a  little,  steep,  rocky 
island,  upthrusting  itself  boldly,  suggested  to  the 
woodsman  that  if  his  pursuers  were  really  going 
to  have  the  audacity  to  attack  him,  it  might  be  well 
to  have  his  back  to  a  rock,  that  he  might  not  be 
surrounded.  He  headed  for  the  island,  therefore, 


344        Ube  Matcbers  of  tbe  UraUs 

though  with  protest  in  his  heart.  And  just  as  he 
got  to  it  the  wolves  emerged  from  cover,  and  darted 
out  upon  the  shining  level. 

"  Looks  like  they  really  meant  it!  "  growled  the 
big  woodsman,  loosing  his  pack-strap,  and  setting 
his  jaws  for  a  fight. 

When  the  pack  came  near  he  was  astonished  first 
at  the  stature  and  dark  colour  of  its  members,  and  he 
realized,  with  a  sudden  fury,  that  the  outcome  was 
not  so  assured  as  he  had  taken  for  granted  it  would 
be.  Perhaps  he  would  never  see  camp,  after  all! 
Then  he  was  further  astonished  to  note  that  one 
of  the  pack-leaders  looked  like  a  dog.  He  shouted, 
in  a  voice  of  angry  command;  and  the  onrushing 
pack  hesitated,  checked  themselves,  spread  apart 
From  that  dominating  voice  it  was  evident  that 
this  was  a  creature  of  power  —  not  to  be  attacked 
carelessly,  but  to  be  surrounded. 

That  voice  of  command  had  thrilled  the  heart 
of  the  long-jawed  bitch.  Something  in  it  reminded 
her  of  the  dead  peddler,  who  had  been  a  masterful 
man.  She  would  have  none  of  this  hunting.  But 
she  looked  at  each  of  her  savage  whelps,  and  knew 
that  any  attempt  to  lead  them  off  would  be  worse 
than  vain.  A  strange  hatred  began  to  stir  within 
her,  and  her  fangs  bared  toward  them  as  if  they, 


passing  of  tbe  Black  'Cdbelps  345 

not  the  man  against  the  rock,  were  the  enemy. 
She  looked  again  at  the  man,  and  saw  the  bundle, 
so  like  a  peddler's  pack,  at  his  feet!  Instantly  her 
heart  went  out  to  him.  She  was  no  longer  a  wolf, 
but  a  dog;  and  there  was  her  master —  not  her  old 
master,  but  such  a  one  as  he  had  been.  At  his  side, 
and  fighting  his  foes,  was  her  place.  Like  a  flash, 
she  darted  away  from  her  companions,  stopped  a 
few  feet  in  front  of  the  ready  woodsman,  turned 
about,  and  faced  the  pack  with  a  savage  growl. 
Her  hair  was  stiffly  erect  from  neck  to  tail;  her 
long,  white  teeth  were  bared  to  the  roots;  her 
eyes  were  narrowed  to  slits  of  green  flame;  she 
half-crouched,  ready  to  spring  in  mad  fury  and 
tear  the  throat  of  any  beast  which  should  try  to  hurt 
the  man. 

As  for  the  woodsman,  he  knew  dogs,  and  was 
not  greatly  surprised  at  his  strange  ally.  At  her 
sudden  approach  he  had  swung  his  axe  in  readiness, 
but  his  cool  eye  had  read  her  signals  aright.  "  Good 
dog!"  he  said,  with  cheerful  confidence.  "We'll 
lick  the  varmints !  " 

But  the  young  wolves  went  wild  with  rage  at  this 
defection  and  defiance,  and  rushed  in  at  once. 
They  sprang  first  upon  the  bitch ;  though  one,  rush- 
ing past,  leaped  venomously  at  the  woodsman's 


346        Ubc  Watcbers  ot  tbe  Urails 

throat.  This  one  got  the  axe  in  his  skull,  and 
dropped  without  a  sound.  Meanwhile,  the  old  wolf, 
who  had  been  holding  back  in  uncertainty,  had 
made  his  decision.  When  he  saw  his  mate  attacked, 
his  doubts  vanished,  and  a  red  haze  for  an  instant 
went  over  his  eyes.  These  unnatural  whelps  that 
attacked  her  —  he  suddenly  saw  them,  not  as  wolves 
at  all,  but  as  dogs,  and  hated  them  with  a  deadly 
hate.  Silently  he  fell  upon  "the  nearest,  and  tore 
him  savagely.  He  was  too  late,  however,  to  save 
his  mistress.  The  long-jawed  bitch,  for  all  her 
strength  and  her  valiant  spirit,  was  ovenvhelmed 
by  her  powerful  offspring.  One  she  had  killed,  and 
for  one  she  had  crunched  a  leg-joint  to  splinters; 
but  now  she  lay  mangled  and  still  under  the  strug- 
gle. The  brute  whose  leg-joint  she  had  smashed 
dragged  out  from  the  melee;  and  her  faithful  mate, 
the  wide-skulled  old  wanderer  wolf,  found  him- 
self in  the  death-grapple  with  three  raging  adver- 
saries, each  fairly  his  match  for  weight  and 
strength.  True  wolf,  he  fought  in  silence;  but  in 
his  antagonists  the  mixed  breed  came  out,  and 
they  fought  with  yelps  and  snarls.  I 

At  this  juncture,  fortunately  for  the  old  wolf, 
the  woodsman's  understanding  eye  had  penetrated 
the  whole  situation.  He  saw  that  the  black-haired 


Ube  {passing  of  tbe  JSlacfe  TWlbelps  347 

beasts  were  the  common  enemy;  and  he  fell  upon 
the  three  with  his  axe.  His  snow-shoes  he  had 
kicked  off  when  making  ready  for  the  struggle.  In 
his  mighty  grasp  the  light  axe  whirled  and  smote 
with  the  cunning  of  a  rapier ;  and  in  a  few  seconds 
the  old  wolf,  bleeding  but  still  vigorous,  found  him- 
self confronting  the  man  across  a  heap  of  mangled 
black  bodies.  The  man,  lowering  his  axe,  looked 
at  the  bleeding  wolf  with  mingled  doubt  and  appro- 
bation. The  wolf  glared  back  for  an  instant,  — 
fear,  hate,  and  grief  in  the  green  gleam  of  his  eyes, 
—  then  turned  and  fled,  his  pace  accelerated  by  the 
cheerful  yell  which  the  man  sent  after  him. 

"  He's  got  the  sand,  sure !  "  muttered  the  woods- 
man, to  himself,  wiping  his  axe.  "  Glad  I  didn't 
hev  to  knock  him  on  the  head,  too! " 

Then  turning  about,  he  saw  the  disabled  whelp 
trying  to  sneak  off,  and,  with  unerring  aim,  threw 
his  axe.  The  black  mongrel  sank  with  a  kick,  and 
lay  still.  The  woodsman  got  out  his  pipe,  slowly 
stuffed  it  with  blackjack,  and  smoked  contempla- 
tively, while  he  stood  and  pondered  the  slain.  He 
turned  over  the  bodies,  and  patted  the  fur  of  the 
long-jawed  bitch,  which  had  so  splendidly  turned 
back  to  her  traditions  in  the  time  of  need.  As  he 
thought,  the  main  elements  of  the  story  unfolded 


348        tlbc  tUatcbers  ot  tbe  trails 

themselves  to  him.  Considerately  he  carried  the 
limp  body,  and  securely  buried  it  under  a  heap  of 
stones  on  the  island.  The  rest  he  cached  carelessly, 
intending  to  return  and  skin  them  on  the  morrow. 
"Them  black  pelts'll  be  worth  somethin',  I 
reckon ! "  he  said  to  himself  with  satisfaction  as 
he  took  up  his  pack. 


Ibomewarfc  Grail 


Ibomewarb  Grail 

;N  the  lumber  camp,  far  back  upon  the 
lonely  headquarters  of  the  Quah-Davic, 
there  was  the  stir  of  something  unusual 
afoot.  It  was  Christmas  Eve,  and  every  kerosene 
lamp,  lantern,  and  candle  that  the  camp  could  boast, 
was  blazing.  The  little  square  windows  gleamed 
softly  through  the  dust  and  cobwebs  of  unwashen 
years.  For  all  the  cold  that  snapped  and  bit  through 
the  stillness  of  the  forest  night,  the  door  of  the  camp 
was  thrown  wide  open,  and  from  it  a  long  sheet  of 
light  spread  out  across  the  trodden  and  chip-littered 
snow.  Around  the  doorway  crowded  the  rough- 
shirted  woodsmen,  loafing  and  smoking  after  their 
prodigious  dinner  of  boiled  pork,  boiled  beans,  and 
steamJing-hot  molasses  cake.  The  big  box-stove 
behind  them,  which  heated  the  camp,  was  wearing 
itself  to  a  dull  red  glow;  and  the  air  that  rushed 
out  with  the  light  from  the  open  door  was  heavy 
with  the  smell  of  wet  woollens,  wet  larrigans,  and 
wet  leather.  Many  of  the  men  were  wearing  noth- 
351 


3$2        Ubc  TWlatcbers  of  tbe 

ing  on  their  feet  but  their  heavy,  home-knit  socks 
of  country  yam ;  but  in  these  they  did  not  hesitate 
to  come  out  upon  the  dry  snow,  rather  than  trouble 
themselves  to  resume  their  massive  foot-gear. 

Before  the  door,  in  the  spread  of  the  light,  stood 
a  pair  of  sturdy,  rough-coated  gray  horses,  hitched 
to  a  strong  box  sled,  or  "  pung."  The  bottom  of 
the  pung  was  covered  thick  with  straw,  and  over 
the  broad,  low  seat  were  blankets,  with  one  heavy 
bearskin  robe.  Into  the  space  behind  the  seat  a 
gaunt,  big-shouldered  man  was  stowing  a  haunch 
of  frozen  moose-meat.  A  lanky,  tow-haired  boy 
of  fifteen  was  tucking  himself  up  carefully  among 
the  blankets  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  seat.  The 
horses  stood  patient,  but  with  drooping  heads,  ag- 
grieved at  being  taken  from  the  stable  at  this  un- 
wonted hour.  In  the  pale-blue,  kindly,  woods-wise 
eyes  of  both  the  man  and  the  boy  shone  the  light 
of  happy  anticipation.  They  seemed  too  occupied 
and  excited  to  make  much  response  to  the  good- 
natured  banter  of  their' comrades,  but  grinned  con- 
tentedly as  they  hastened  their  preparations  for 
departure.  The  man  was  Steve  Williams,  best  axe- 
man and  stream-driver  in  the  camp ;  the  boy,  young 
Steve,  his  eldest  son,  who  was  serving  as  "  cookee," 
or  assistant  to  the  camp  cook.  The  two  were  set- 


1)omewar&  {Trail  353 

ting  out  on  a  long  night  drive  through  the  forest 
to  spend  Christmas  with  their  family,  on  the  edge 
of  the  lonely  little  settlement  of  Brine's  Brook. 

When  all  was  ready,  the  big-shouldered  woods- 
man slipped  into  the  seat  beside  his  son,  pulled 
the  blankets  and  the  bearskin  all  about  him,  and 
picked  up  the  reins  from  the  square  dashboard. 
A  sharp  tchk  started  the  horses,  and,  amid  a  chorus 
of  shouts,  —  good  nights  and  Merry  Christmases, 
and  well-worn  rustic  pleasantries,  —  the  loaded  pung 
slid  forward  from  the  light  into  the  great,  ghost- 
white  gloom  beyond.  The  sled-bells  jangled;  the 
steel  runners  crunched  and  sang  frostily;  and  the 
cheerful  camp,  the  only  centre  of  human  life  within 
a  radius  of  more  than  twenty  miles,  sank  back 
behind  the  voyagers.  There  was  the  sound  of 
a  door  slamming,  and  the  bright  streak  across  the 
snow  was  blotted  out.  The  travellers  were  alone 
on  the  trail,  with  the  solemn  ranks  of  trees  and 
the  icy-pointed  stars. 

They  were  well  prepared,  these  two  happy  Christ- 
mas adventurers,  to  face  the  rigours  of  the  December 
night.  Under  their  heavy  blanket-coats  were  many 
thicknesses  of  homespun  flannel.  Inside  their  high- 
laced,  capacious  "  shoe-packs  "  were  several  pairs 
of  yarn  socks.  Their  hands  were  covered  by 


354        Ube  TOUtcbers  of  tbe  trails 

double-knit  home-made  mittens.  Their  heads  were 
protected  by  wadded  caps  of  muskrat  fur,  with  flaps 
that  pulled  down  well  over  the  ears.  The  cold,  which 
iced  their  eyelashes,  turned  the  tips  of  their  up- 
turned coat-collars  and  the  edges  of  their  mufflers 
to  board,  and  made  the  old  trees  snap  startlingly, 
had  no  terrors  at  all  for  their  hardy  frames.  Once 
well  under  way,  and  the  camp  quite  out  of  sight, 
they  fell  to  chatting  happily  of  the  surprise  they 
would  give  the  home  folks,  who  did  not  expect 
them  home  for  Christmas.  They  calculated,  if  they 
had  "  anyways  good  luck,"  to  get  home  to  the  little 
isolated  backwoods  farmhouse  between  four  and 
five  in  the  morning,  about  when  grandfather  would 
be  getting  up  by  candle-light  to  start  the  kitchen 
fire  for  mother,  and  then  go  out  and  fodder  the 
cattle.  They'd  be  home  in  time  to  wake  the  three 
younger  children  (young  Steve  was  the  eldest  of 
a  family  of  four),  and  to  add  certain  little  carven 
products  of  the  woodsman's  whittling  —  ingenious 
wooden  toys,  and  tiny  elaborate  boxes,  filled  with 
choicest  globules  of  spruce  gum  —  to  the  few  poor 
Christmas  gifts  which  the  resourceful  and  busy 
little  mother  had  managed  to  get  together  against 
the  festival.  As  they  talked  these  things  over, 
slowly  and  with  frugal  speech,  after  the  fashion 


tTbe  Tbomewarb  Urail  355 

of  their  class,  suddenly  was  borne  in  upon  them  a 
sense  of  the  loneliness  of  the  home  folks'  Christ- 
mas if  they  should  fail  to  come.  Under  the 
spell  of  this  feeling,  a  kind  of  inverted  homesick- 
ness, their  talk  died  into  silence.  They  sat  thinking, 
and  listening  to  the  hoarse  jangle  of  their  bells. 

In  such  a  night  as  this,  few  of  the  wild  kindreds 
were  astir  in  the  forest.  The  bears,  raccoons,  wood- 
chucks,  and  chipmunks  were  snugly  "holed  up," 
and  sleeping  away  the  great  white  cold.  The  deer 
and  moose  were  in  their  well-trodden  "  yards,"  for 
the  snow  was  deep.  The  travellers  knew  that  there 
were  plenty  of  wood-mice  astir,  —  that  if  there  had 
been  light  enough  they  would  have  seen  their  deli- 
cate trails  wandering  everywhere  among  the  trees. 
But  the  jangling  of  the  sled-bells  was  enough  to 
keep  all  shy  beasts  at  a  distance.  Only  the  porcu- 
pine was  quite  undaunted  by  the  strange  sounds. 
One  came  out  into  the  middle  of  the  road,  and  stood 
there  seemingly  to  dispute  passage.  The  boy,  in 
whom  primal  instincts  were  still  dominant,  was 
for  getting  out  and  killing  the  insolent  little  bristler. 
But  the  father  turned  the  team  aside,  and  grace- 
fully yielded  the  road,  saying: 

"  Let  him  be,  son !    The  woods  is  hisn  as  much  as 


as6        ftbe  "Qdatcbers  of  tbe  Urails 

ourn.  An'  I  respect  him,  fer  he  ain't  skeered  of 
nothin'  that  goes  on  legs !  " 

An  hour  later,  when  the  boy  was  getting  very 
drowsy  from  watching  the  ceaseless  procession  of 
dark  fir-trees,  his  father  nudged  him,  and  whispered, 
"  Look !  "  The  boy,  wide  awake  on  the  instant, 
peered  into  the  gloom,  and  presently  his  trained 
young  eyes  made  out  a  shadowy,  slouching  form, 
that  flitted  without  a  sound  from  tree  to  tree. 

"  Lucivee  ?  "  he  asked,  breathless  with  interest, 
laying  his  mittened  hand  on  his  little  rifle  under  the 
blankets. 

"  Yes,  lucivee !   lynx !  "   answered  the  father. 

"  Let  me  take  a  shot  at  him,"  said  the  boy,  re- 
moving the  mitten  from  his  right  hand,  and  bring- 
ing out  his  weapon. 

"  Oh,  what's  the  good  o'  killin'  the  beast  Christ- 
mas times ! "  protested  the  father,  gently.  And 
the  boy  laid  down  the  gun. 

"What  does  he  think  he's  follerin'  us  fer?"  he 
inquired,  a  moment  later. 

"The  moose-meat,  maybe!"  replied  the  man. 
"  He  smells  it  likely,  an'  thinks  we're  goin'  to  give 
it  to  him  for  a  Christmas  present ! " 

At  this  suggestion  the  boy  laughed  out  loud.  His 
clear  young  voice  rang  through  the  frosty  shadows ; 


Ibomewarb  tTratl  357 

and  the  lynx,  surprised  and  offended,  shrank  back, 
and  slunk  away  in  another  direction. 

"  Bloodthirsty  varmints,  them  lucivees !  "  said  the 
boy,  who  wanted  a  lynx-skin  as  a  trophy.  "  Ain't 
it  better  to  shoot  'em  whenever  one  gits  the  chance?  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  father,  dubiously,  "  maybe  so ! 
But  there's  better  times  fer  killin'  than  Christmas 
times !  " 

A  little  farther  ahead,  the  road  to  Brine's  Brook 
turned  off.  Here  the  going  was  very  heavy.  The 
road  was  little  travelled,  and  in  places  almost  choked 
up  by  drifts.  Most  of  the  time  the  horses  had  to 
walk;  and  sometimes  the  man  and  boy  had  to 
get  out  and  tramp  a  path  ahead  of  the  discouraged 
team. 

"  At  this  rate,  dad,  we  ain't  a-goin'  to  git  home 
in  time  fer  breakfast !  "  exclaimed  the  boy,  despond- 
ently. To  which  the  man  replied,  "  Don't  you  fret, 
son !  It'll  be  better  goin'  when  we  git  over  the  rise. 
You  git  into  the  pung  now  an'  take  the  reins,  an' 
let  me  do  the  trampin'." 

The  boy,  who  was  tired  out,  obeyed  gladly.  He 
gathered  up  the  reins,  —  and  in  two  minutes  was 
sound  asleep.  The  man  smiled,  tucked  the  blankets 
snugly  around  the  sleeping  form,  and  trudged  on 
tirelessly  for  a  couple  of  hours,  the  horses  flounder- 


358        ftbe  'Cdatcbers  of  tbe  tTraits 

ing  at  his  heels.  Then  the  drifts  ceased.  The  man 
kicked  the  snow  from  his  trousers  and  shoe-packs, 
and  climbed  into  the  pung  again.  "  We'll  make 
it  in  time  fer  breakfast  yet !  "  he  murmured  to  him- 
self, confidently,  as  the  horses  once  more  broke  into 
a  trot. 

They  were  traversing  now  a  high  table-land, 
rather  sparsely  wooded,  and  dotted  here  and  there 
with  towering  rampikes.  Suddenly  from  far  behind 
came  a  long,  wavering  cry,  high-pitched  and  pecu- 
liarly daunting.  The  horses,  though  they  had  prob- 
ably never  heard  such  a  sound  before,  started 
apprehensively,  and  quickened  their  pace.  The  man 
reined  them  in  firmly ;  but  as  he  did  so  he  frowned. 

"  I've  hearn  say  the  wolves  was  comin'  back  to 
these  here  parts,"  he  muttered,  "  now  that  the  deer's 
gittin'  so  plenty  agin!  But  I  didn't  more'n  half- 
believe  it  afore!  " 

Presently  the  grim  sound  came  again.  Then 
the  man  once  more  awoke  the  boy. 

"  Here's  somethin'  to  interest  you,  lad,"  said  he, 
as  the  latter  put  a  mittened  fist  to  sleepy  eyes. 
"  Hark  to  that  there  noise !  Did  you  ever  hear  the 
like?" 

The  boy  listened,  paled  slightly,  and  was  instantly 
wide  awake. 


TTbe  t>omewart>  Urail  359 

"  Why,  that's  like  what  I've  read  about! "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  It  must  be  wolves !  " 

"  Nary  a  doubt  of  it !  "  assented  his  father,  again 
reining  the  uneasy  horses  down  to  a  steady  gait. 
"  They've  followed  the  deer  back,  and  now,  seems 
like  their  a-follerin'  us !  " 

The  boy  looked  thoughtful  for  a  moment,  then 
said,  carelessly : 

"  Oh,  well,  I  reckon  there's  deer  a-plenty  for  'em, 
an'  they're  not  likely  to  come  too  nigh  us,  lookin' 
fer  trouble.  I  reckon  they  ain't  much  like  them 
Roosian  wolves  we  read  about,  eh,  dad  ?  " 

"  I  reckon,"  agreed  the  father.  At  the  same  time, 
it  was  with  a  certain  satisfaction  that  he  set  his  foot 
on  his  trusty  axe,  amid  the  straw  in  the  bottom  of 
the  pung. 

As  the  high,  quavering  voices  drew  nearer,  the 
horses  grew  more  and  more  alarmed;  but  the  man 
soothed  them  with  his  voice,  and  sternly  held  them 
in,  husbanding  their  strength  lest  there  should  be 
more  heavy  going  farther  ahead.  At  length,  some 
three  hundred  yards  behind  them,  they  caught  a 
glimpse  of  their  pursuers,  four  swiftly  running 
shapes. 

"  Only  four ! "  cried  the  boy,  scornfully,  as  he 


360        trbe  Matcbers  of  tbe  ttrails 

patted  his  little  rifle.    "  I  thought  there  was  always 
more'n  that  in  a  pack !  " 

"  You  needn't  grumble,"  said  the  man,  with  a 
grin.  "  It's  gittin'  home  fer  breakfast  we're  after, 
not  fightin'  wolves,  son !  " 

The  road  was  so  much  better  now  that  the  man 
gave  the  horses  their  head  a  little,  and  the  pung 
flew  over  the  singing  snow.  But  in  a  few  minutes 
the  four  wolves,  though  keeping  a  distance  of  a 
couple  of  hundred  yards,  were  running  abreast  of 
them.  The  animals  were  evidently  unacquainted 
with  horses  or  men,  and  shy  about  a  close  investiga- 
tion. The  sled-bells,  too,  were  to  them  a  very  sus- 
picious phenomenon.  Deer,  assuredly,  were  safer 
hunting ;  but  they  would,  at  least,  keep  this  strange, 
new  kind  of  quarry  in  sight  for  awhile,  to  see  what 
might  turn  up. 

.  For  the  next  half-hour  there  was  no  change  in 
the  situation.  From  time  to  time,  where  the  woods 
thickened,  the  wolves  would  draw  nearer  to  the 
pung;  and  the  boy,  with  shining  eyes,  would  lift 
his  rifle.  But  presently  they  would  sheer  off  again ; 
and  the  boy  grew  more  and  more  scornful.  Then 
came  the  winter  dawn,  a  creeping,  bitter  gray,  and 
for  a  few  minutes  the  forest  was  an  unreal  place, 
full  of  ghosts,  and  cold  with  a  cold  to  pierce  the 


l)omewar&  {Trail  a6* 

soul.  Then,  a  growing,  spreading,  pervading  glory 
of  pink  and  lilac  and  transparent  gold.  As  the  light 
streamed  through  the  trees,  the  wolves  got  a  clearer 
view  of  their  quarry;  and  perceiving  in  it  a  some- 
thing distinctly  dangerous,  they  dropped  the  chase 
and  faded  back  into  the  thickets.  The  man  looked 
at  the  boy's  disappointed  face,  and  said,  smilingly: 

"  I  reckon  they  was  extry-ordinary  civil,  seein' 
us  home  that  way  through  the  woods !  " 

A  few  moments  later  the  woods  were  left  be- 
hind, and  the  travellers  came  out  among  the  snowy 
stump-fields.  There  below  them,  half-way  down 
the  hill,  was  home,  bathed  in  the  sparkling  sun. 
Smoke  was  pouring  cheerfully  from  the  chimney; 
and  there  in  the  yard  was  grandfather,  bringing 
in  a  pail  of  milk  from  the  barn. 

"  Mother'll  have  breakfast  jest  about  ready ! " 
cried  the  man,  his  rough  face  tender  and  aglow. 

"  But  I  wisht  I  could've  brought  her  a  nice 
wolf-skin  for  Christmas ! "  exclaimed  the  boy, 
sighing  softly  as  he  laid  down  the  little  rifle. 

THE  END. 


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